#I will never get over how Ford was reaching out for the yellow triangle in his baby picture

[knockknockwhosthereartistism]

Forever out of reach

[thicctails]

i recently saw your GBC AU and I can say that I am now one of the many people who has fallen in love with it. I am also a little more curious about the AU. For example, I noticed how Bill interacts with the Pines and his parents. How did it come to the point that Bill is now just living with the Pines family? Does he even live with them? What was it like for everyone involved?

I feel like Scalene and Euclid would want to reach out to their son but for multiple reasons. For one, maybe convince him to get help (It's a given fact that Bill Cipher needs therapy) or maybe not kill anyone. Depending on how much they investigate the matter based on Bill’s and Ford’s toxic relationship (Speaking of which, how does Ford react when his “Muse” starts living with them?) do they ask themselves what else Bill has done? The yellow Dorito has a LONG criminal history with not many redeeming qualities (other than being a feminist).

Of course, Id also see them wanting to reconnect with their baby boy and apologize for everything they have done to him in the past. But again, trillions of years have passed and their Little Billy ain't so little anymore, and has developed a dark, if not sadistic sense of humor. While his parents may be what breaks the camel back and slightly motivate Bill to change his ways, undoing the unhealthy mindset that is severely rooted into him will take more than a little lullaby to fix.

Every day the Primary Colours trauma triangle cult grows >:)

To answer your question, Bill doesn't end up with the Pines and his parents in their reality until Weirdmaggedon, which is caused by an alternate version of himself tearing open the weakened wall between the Nightmare Realm and Reality. Before then, he mostly uses dreams and very weak vessels to interact with them, such as the various plushes Mabel makes for him.

After Weirdmageddon, Bill is severely weakened and fairly injured (think half-blind and pretty scarred up), but he and his folks can exist in the 3D and 2D planes. (though Bill usually avoids going 2D if he can) After the human Pines parents lose custody (Soos and Melody adopt Dipper and Mabel officially, since Stan is a criminal and Ford... well, Stan used his identity lol) the Ciphers mostly watch over the kids and the Shack while Ford and Stan are out at sea. When the Stan twins are around, Bill usually makes himself scarce.

Dipper and Mabel are probably the ones that are the most comfortable with Bill. They don't have any real traumatic memories with him in this AU, so they're just happy to finally get to meet and hang out with their older brother, strange as he is. Bill encourages them to get into mischief and often pulls pranks, but he never actively puts them in danger. He's actually really possessive/protective over the twins once it sinks in that they aren't just squishy little humans his parents love, they're his baby siblings.

(Ford mentions that Dipper might need to see an optometrist within earshot of Bill and he injures himself summoning fire to guard Dipper from him. Bill has nothing but hellish memories of his experience with an optometrist and will not allow Sixer to take Pinetree to be blinded like he was. It takes a long time to calm him down and convince him that Dipper isn't going to be harmed.)

In the months before Weirdmaggedon, things between Bill and everyone who isn't the twins is... awkward and tense, to say the least. Scalene and Euclid are, obviously, thrilled that their oldest isn't just a long-gone smear of burning flesh and dust, but it's also very mentally taxing and difficult to interact with him. As i said in a previous post, they often accidentally set off the others' triggers, and Bill being, well, Bill, means that they also have to come to terms with the fact that, while they will always love their son, he's not the velcro-shoe wearing, bubbly little stargazer they once knew.

Ford, understandably, does not take Bill popping up in his house very well, and is even more upset by the fact that he's getting near Dipper and Mabel. It's only Stan's insistence that he's actually helped the kids freely before that keeps Ford from forcing everyone into Mandatory Family Thought Encryption. He never forgets what Bill did to him, nor does he ever forgive him, but he doesn't murder him in his sleep when he's vulnerable after making a deal with the Axolotl at the end of Weirdmageddon, so there's that. Plus, it is reassuring to know that the once all-powerful King of the Nightmare Realm folds like wet laundry under the Power of Mabel. The creature that once haunted his nightmares looks a little less scary when a 13 year old girl has painted his nails a glittery pink and made him have a disco tea party with her pet pig.

As for him getting help? Well, that's actually part of the deal he makes with the Axolotl! Weirdmageddon almost kills him (turns out fighting yourself while actually caring about not hurting people leaves you somewhat vulnerable!), but the Axolotl agrees to save him, if he agrees to monthly therapy sessions with him, as well as him and his parents having a regular life span. Total reformation really isn't going to be possible, not for Bill, but when Dipper and Mabel have passed on, he and his folks will go too, and if Bill has made progress towards being a better person, then they'll be reincarnated together.

It's hard and it SUCKS, but its better than Canon Bill is doing lol.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Atychiphobia

Summary:

Atychiphobia is an intense fear of failure. Fear of failure is self-limiting and causes severe stress and anxiety. It can impair your present relationships, goals to succeed, and productivity.

Ford Pines gets paid a visit one night from a certain dream demon.

Author's Note: I’ll have you all know I started with the intent of like, a 6k one shot. It’s now eight chapters and 28,000 words with an inspiration playlist and it took me two months to finish. It is done already though, so I'm gonna post one chapter every Saturday morning until it's all out. I hope you enjoy it!

...

It’s during a dream that Ford first meets Bill.

It starts off as a really good dream, too.  He and Stan have finished fixing the Stan-O-War and are casting off to the open sea.  Ford can see scientific anomalies and monsters in the distance for him, and treasure and cute girls for Stan.  Stan’s talking excitedly about all of the adventures they’re about to have, and Ford has mapped it out so they’ll still be home in time for dinner.

But just as they’re about to sail out of sight of Glass Shard Beach, Ford hears a cackle of laughter from beside him, and not like Stan’s normal-sounding laughter.

“Stanley?” Ford asks, turning in confusion.

Stan turns to face him too, but his smile is way too wide, and his eyes are yellow with slitted pupils.

Ford yelps and leaps backwards, only for definitely-not-Stanley to reach out and grab him by the shirt.

“Careful there, Sixer,” says a voice that also doesn’t belong to Stanley.  “You might fall!”

Ford looks behind him and finds that the edge of the boat is a lot closer than he remembers it being.

Not-Stanley yanks him forward, and Ford yelps again, landing on his hands and knees on the deck.  He looks up and sees Stan grinning unnaturally down at him.

“Stan?” he asks weakly.  Not-Stan laughs.

“Nope!” he calls, and then from Stan’s eye emerges a top hat, and then a bright yellow shape, and then Stan vanishes completely.  In his place is a floating yellow triangle with a top hat and bow tie.

“Wow, have I been waiting to meet you, Sixer!” the triangle says.  Ford stands up.  He wants to take a step back, even though that didn’t work out so well last time.

“Only Stanley gets to call me that,” Ford says.

The triangle laughs, like that’s funny.

“Who are you?” Ford demands, clenching his hands into fists and trying to be brave.  “Give Stanley back!”

The triangle laughs again.  “Wow, you’re the first Sixer I’ve met who’s ever said that,” he says.

“What?”

The triangle looks at him, and despite the fact that he doesn’t have a mouth, Ford gets the distinct impression that he’s smiling.

“Aww, you’re just a little shrimp, aren’t ya?” he says.  “No wonder you want your other half around.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Ford says weakly.

“Oh, my bad,” the triangle says.  He holds out a hand.  “I’m Bill!  I don’t think we’ve met in this dimension yet!”

“In this what?” Ford asks, ignoring the hand.  He’s still trying to figure out how the triangle is talking without a mouth.

“This dimension, Sixer!  This is a fun one!  You’re a tad young, but no way that can stop you for long!”

“I— huh?”

“I’ve met you in too many dimensions, you never let anything stop you!” Bill continues, as if Ford’s confusion doesn’t exist.  “You’re too smart for that!”

Ford blinks.  “Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me, I’m just pointing out facts!  You’ve got a lot of potential, kid!  I’ll be keeping an eye on you!  Wouldn’t want to let it go to waste!”

Ford doesn’t know what to say to that, but it doesn’t end up mattering, because that’s about the time he hears “Hey, Sixer,” and feels a poke on his cheek.

Ford groans and rolls over in bed, burying his head back in his pillow.

“Sixer,” says the much more familiar voice of his brother.  “Wake up, Grauntie Mabel’s making pancakes, we’ve gotta get down there and stop her from adding glitter.”

And well, that is a real concern, so Ford manages to pull his head up with another groan and a grumble, and rubs at his eyes.

“I’ll hold her off as long as I can,” Stan says, from his spot right next to Ford’s bed.  “Just get downstairs quick!”

He runs out before Ford can say anything else.

Ford yawns, stretches, and forces himself into a sitting position.

“What a weird dream,” he mumbles to himself as he slips his feet out of bed.

…

He doesn’t put together that the triangle demon Fiddleford and Stan say they saw talking to Bud Gleeful is Bill until they’re inside Grauntie Mabel’s head.  But strangely enough, Bill doesn’t act like he knows him at all, and things are a little too urgent at the time for him to think much about it.

And after they’re done stopping Bill, well, things hardly get less urgent.  Ford doesn’t have any time to think about the fact that he had a weird dream about Bill being nice to him until after they’ve stopped Bud and have headed back home to the craft store to relax.  Grauntie Mabel promises to make a breakfast for dinner of pancakes with edible glitter, which Ford and Stan consent to as a fair compromise, and they all end up in the kitchen, laughing and reminiscing on all the crazy things that have happened the past couple of days.

But it’s only after Grauntie Mabel has gone to feed Waddles dinner that Stan says, “Man, I should have known the evil demon trying to take over Grauntie Mabel’s head was a distraction.  Classic bait-and-switch.”

And Ford’s eyes widen as he realizes he’d completely forgotten about Bill in the events of the last couple days.

“Uh, hey,” he says, turning to face Stanley.  “Stan—”

“Alright, share those, I’m not making any more tonight,” comes Grauntie Mabel’s voice, and she yanks away the last two pancakes that Stan had been about to reach for.  “You each get one, and head up to bed, it’s way too late as it is.”

“But Grauntie Mabel,” Stan whines.  “We defeated an evil fake psychic today!  Can’t we stay up a little later as a reward?”

“You can stay up later at the karaoke party we’re having on Saturday to celebrate,” Grauntie Mabel says, waving her hand towards the steps.  “Come on, we’ve all had a very long couple days.  I’m an old lady, I need my beauty rest.  And so does Waddles.”  She reaches down and rubs the pig on the head, who gives a satisfied oink as if to confirm.

“Does it have to be a karaoke party?” Stan mutters, but he shovels another couple bites of pancake in his mouth and then pushes his chair back.

“Goodnight Grauntie Mabel,” Ford calls quickly, pushing his chair back to follow Stan.  “Uh, hey,” he calls to Stan as they start up the steps.  “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s up?” Stan asks, glancing over at him.

“Had you ever, like, seen Bill before?  Like, before you and Fiddleford found him talking to Bud?”

“No, why?” Stan asks.  “You see him in the journal or somethin’?”

Well, that too.  And the author’s paranoid scribblings about never trusting or summoning Bill at any costs just made Ford more confused about the dream he’d had before.  But if Stan doesn’t know anything about him, then he must not have gotten a similar dream.  Which is weird.  Bill mentioned Stan in the dream, so he clearly knows about him.  Why would he only talk to Ford?  Did it have something to do with Bill calling him smart and talking about his potential?  Did he not view Stan the same way?  But then, the Bill from his dream had acted very different from the Bill who invaded Grauntie Mabel’s head.  Then again, if he’d been working for Bud, maybe he was just doing what Bud told him to?  Stan said they’d made a deal of some kind.  But if the author clearly thinks he’s not trustworthy, that’s probably not something Ford should just write off.

“Ford?”

Ford blinks, and Stan’s staring curiously at him.

“You good?” he asks.  “You just kinda… stopped talking, there.”

“I’m good,” Ford says, mostly on instinct.  “Just… thinking.”

“‘Bout what?”

Ford bites his lip.  “Nothing,” he decides on.  He doesn’t know what he thinks about anything yet, and Grauntie Mabel’s right, it’s been a long couple days.  He doesn’t want to bother Stan with questions about Bill right at the tail end of their victory.  “I’ll tell you in the morning, okay?”

Stan looks at him for another moment, and then shrugs.  “Okay,” he says, and then starts back up the stairs again towards the attic.  Ford follows him, trying to put Bill out of his mind for the night.  Besides, they’ll have plenty of time to figure things out now that Grauntie Mabel’s not sending them home.

Ford’s planning on heading straight to bed as soon as they get there, but as they walk into the attic, Stan says, “Hey,” and when Ford turns around he sees him holding up a hand.

“You were awesome today, Sixer,” Stan says with a bright smile.  “I’m never gonna forget the look on Bud’s stupid face.  High six?”

Ford grins at him, and slaps Stan’s hand with his own.  “High six,” he says.

Stan grins wider as he starts back over to his bed, and as he climbs under his covers, adds, “See?  You don’t need the journal to be awesome.  You can do amazing things all on your own.”

Ford looks away as he climbs into bed to hide his smile at that one.  “You were pretty awesome too, you know,” he says after a second, turning to face Stan again.  “With that grappling hook.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stan says, in a falsely cocky voice, putting his hands on his hips.  But the smile on his face as they start over to their beds shows that he appreciates it.

Ford laughs a little.  “Goodnight, knucklehead,” he says, laying down and pulling the covers up to his chin.

“Night, dumb-dumb!” Stan calls back cheerfully.

Both of them fall asleep smiling.

…

Ford’s not sure how much time has passed when he opens his eyes again, but it’s still dark in the attic.  Ford glances up towards the window for any sign of a coming morning, but oddly enough, he can’t even see the stars that are usually visible through the window.

Ford pushes the covers back and sits up, turning to face the window.  Is this more Gravity Falls weirdness?

He walks quietly over to the window and peeks out, but nothing’s outside of it, just a long black expanse.

“Um,” he says, starting to get a little nervous.  He turns to the bed on the other side of the room and whispers, “Stanley.”

A grumble comes from the bed.  Ford walks over and pokes Stan in the shoulder.  “Stanley, wake up—”

Stan spins over in bed, sudden and visceral, his bones cracking audibly.  Ford screams and leaps back a step, before Stan’s eyes snap open to reveal bright yellow irises.

“Heya again, Sixer!” yells a now-familiar voice.  Stanley’s body peels back in a way that’s not much better than the bones cracking, and Ford looks away, feeling nauseous.  Out of the corner of his eye he sees Bill float up from what was Stanley a second ago.

Bill turns around and laughs, poking the mush left on the bed.  “Man, he’d look good as a corpse!”

“Stop it!” Ford screams, turning around completely and shoving his hands over his ears.

“Aw, come on, Sixer, I’m just having a little fun!  Tons of other versions of you thought that was funny!”

Ford just shoves his hands over his ears tighter, though it doesn’t seem to do anything to block Bill’s voice.

“Not your style yet, huh Sixer?”

“Stop calling me that!” Ford says, turning around and keeping his gaze firmly away from the other bed.  “Only Stanley gets to call me that!”

Bill laughs again.  “Man, I always forget how tight you two are at first.  Just weird to see, lemme tell ya.”

“What are you talking about?” Ford asks, clenching his hands into fists.  “And why did you invade Grauntie Mabel’s head?  And why did you act like we’d never talked before when we found you?”

“Woah, slow down, Sixer, one question at a time,” Bill says, amusement bleeding into his eye.  “Look, Shooting Star was nothing personal.  Just the terms of the deal, you know?  Besides, you and your useless brother beat me in the end.  No harm no foul.”

Ford grits his teeth.  “Okay, I’ve decided, I don’t like you,” he says.  “Leave me alone.”

“Oh, calm down, Sixer,” Bill says.  “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t like your version of help,” Ford says coolly.  “You almost hurt my Grauntie, and you’re mean to my brother.”

“Hey, sorry bud,” Bill says, holding up his hands.  “Old habits die hard.  I learned it from you, you know.”

“Why do you keep saying stuff like that?  Stanley’s not useless, you’re just being mean!”

Bill laughs again, sounding harsher and meaner than before.  “I always forget how little you humans know about the multiverse.  Come here, I’ll show you!”

“What do you—” Ford starts.  But before he can finish, Bill grabs him by the arm and yanks him upwards, through the air and towards the attic window.

Ford yelps and tries to shield his face from the glass, but they pass right through, and when he opens his eyes he sees a car driving away from their house.  He doesn’t recognize the car, but Bill points at it like it means something.

“I’d imagine you’ve got about six years left before that brother of yours realizes what you really are and kicks you to the curb,” Bill says.  “That’s him in the car, getting far away from you.  Can’t blame him, really.”

Ford scowls and yanks his arm away.  “You’re a liar,” he says.  “Stanley wouldn’t do that.”

“I’ve got a couple dozen dimensions that prove you wrong, Sixer,” Bill says, grabbing his arm again.  “You want to take a tour?”

Ford tries to yank his arm away, but Bill just tightens his grip, and the world around them shifts again.  The type of car changes, but it’s still driving away from their house, and when Bill yanks them down next to the car, the person inside really does look a lot like an older version of Stan.  He looks angry, and he’s glaring out the window ahead of him, not seeming too interested in what’s back at the house.

“That doesn’t mean he’s leaving,” Ford snaps, glaring at Bill, since he can’t seem to pull his arm out of his grasp.  “That’s what Stan does when he’s upset, he needs space.”

Bill laughs again.  “Sure seems like a lot of space, then,” he says.  He snaps his fingers, and time seems to rewind around them, until the car stops with the older-looking-Stan outside of it.  Ford watches as he shouts up at the house: “I can make it on my own!  I don’t need you!  I don’t need anyone!”

Then, without another word, he climbs in the car and drives away.

“Stop it!” Ford snaps at Bill, trying to ignore the squirming nervous feeling that’s taken root in his stomach.  “You’re a liar, Stanley wouldn’t just leave me!”

“Oh, he wouldn’t now?” Bill asks, and he pulls them both away from the scene again, quickly through a bunch of other ones— other dimensions, Ford supposes?  They’re moving too quickly for Ford to really look at what’s happening, but he gets a couple of clear images— Stanley punching him in the face, shoving him away from him, shoving him towards some kind of futuristic looking glowing triangle, yelling something in his face and then storming off and not coming back, and not coming back, and not coming back, and—

“Stop it!” Ford screams, squeezing his eyes shut.  “Stop it, stop it, I don’t wanna see!”

“Well, that’s not a good attitude to have, kid!” Bill says, still sounding incredibly amused by everything.  “I’m just trying to prepare you!  It’s gonna happen eventually, you should be ready for it!”

“It’s not, it’s not!” Ford protests, trying to pull his arm away from Bill’s again.  “Stanley’s not going to leave me, you’re a liar!”

Bill laughs again, but there’s something darker about it, and that something almost forces Ford to open his eyes.  Bill’s eye is glowing bright red now, and Ford doesn’t like the manic energy in it.  He tries harder to pull his arm away, but his wrist starts to strain in a way he doesn’t like.

“‘Course he is, Sixer!” Bill calls brightly.  “And you know why?”

He lets go of Ford’s hand, and Ford screams as he starts to fall into the air, but before he can get very far, Bill grows ten times larger and catches Ford in his left hand.  Ford tries to run and leap off the edge of the hand, but Bill just casually dumps him into his other one, and then back into his first, until Ford lands in his right hand dizzy and stumbling.  Bill shifts his grip until he’s grasping Ford tightly, and then brings him right up to his bright red eye.

“It’s because your brother realizes what you really are,” Bill says, his voice suddenly deeper and angrier.  “A washed up miserable failure who squanders all your potential.  A lonely freak whose most unique trait is something he didn’t even earn.”  Bill shifts his grip and pushes Ford’s arm up into the air, presenting his six fingers on full display.  It’s probably Ford’s imagination, but he can swear for a second he hears Stanley’s laughter.

“You’re nothing special, kid,” Bill says, leaning his enormous eye right into Ford’s face.  “And sooner or later, your brother’s going to realize it too.  I’m just making sure you’re ready for when everyone finally knows what a failure you are.”

“I—” Ford manages, trying to lean away.  “I’m not!  You’re wrong!”

Bill cackles.  “I got a couple dozen dimensions that prove me right, Sixer,” he says.  “But don’t worry, we can continue our tour another time.  Besides, you’ve got stuff to do.”

And with that, he tilts his head back, turns his one eye into a large, gaping mouth, and then tosses Ford up towards it.  The mouth snaps shut around him, and Ford screams.

…

He wakes up gasping and panicking, grasping for anything around him, some kind of way to pry Bill’s mouth open.  But his hands only meet empty air.  It takes him a second to realize he’s not being eaten by a dream demon, and is instead back in the attic.

He leans forward and drops his head into his knees, his breathing still way too short and shallow and panicked.

“St-Stanley?” he calls, trying to make it loud enough to get his brother’s attention.  There isn’t any response, and that increases Ford’s panic enough that he yanks his head up.

The sun is shining in through the window, and the attic is empty.

Ford scrambles from the bed and towards the steps, making his way down them as quickly as he can with how badly his legs are shaking.

He hears Stanley’s voice as he reaches the bottom of the steps, sounding like it’s coming from the kitchen.

“I’m just saying, reheated they’re never as good,” he says.  “Just how it is.”

“Oh, I see,” comes Grauntie Mabel’s rather amused voice.  “Well, if you want to make fresh pancakes every time you want to eat them, you go for it, but in the meantime, you’re asking an awful lot of me, buddy.”

“Excuse me, I’m the child?  That’s my job.”

Grauntie Mabel snorts with laughter.  Ford doesn’t want to interrupt them, and instead he leans back against the wall at the bottom step, trying to take a deep breath in.

“Just a nightmare,” he whispers to himself.  “Calm down, it’s just Bill trying to mess with you.  You’re okay.”

He stays there for a little longer, until his legs stop feeling quite so shaky, and then he pushes himself up.  He takes one more deep breath, and starts slowly towards the kitchen.

Stan is sitting with his back to him when he walks into the entryway, but Grauntie Mabel smiles at him from the place across from the door.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” she calls.  “You’re up later than usual.  Want some pancakes?”

“Don’t bother, they’re reheated,” Stan calls, while shoveling another bite in his mouth, which makes for a bit of a confusing message.

Ford just nods in response to Grauntie Mabel, and when she climbs up to get a new plate and get the pancakes from the fridge, he walks forward and sits down in the open chair next to Stan.

“Hey, Sixer, great news!” Stan calls, grinning up at him.  “Now that we have an actual house back, Fiddleford’s dad is letting him come over and play again!  He called a little bit ago, he says he’ll be here after lunch!”

Ford gives the best smile he can manage.  “That’s awesome,” he says, hoping Stan can’t see right through him.

Stan has always been able to see right through him.

His smile dips into a concerned frown.  “Hey, you good?”

“Just a bad dream,” Ford admits.  “I… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Stan says, turning to face him a little more directly as he gives him his attention.

“Would you… I mean, if I…” he trails off, the same desperate panic from his nightmare starting to crawl its way up his throat again.

“Would I, if you…” Stan prompts.

Ford looks up at him, takes in Stan’s earnest concerned face, and realizes he can’t get the words out.

“Would you mind if we skip the monster hunting today?” he asks.  “I think I’m a little beat after all the stuff with Bud.”

Stan looks at him a moment longer.  “Sure, no problem,” he says after a second.  “But are you sure that’s what you wanted to ask?”

Ford clenches his hands into fists under the table.  “I’m sure.”

“Fresh reheated pancakes, at your service,” comes Grauntie Mabel’s voice, and Ford takes the distraction, turning with a smile and taking the plate from her.

“Thanks, Grauntie Mabel,” he says, and cuts up and shovels a bite in his mouth as quickly as he can.

Stan doesn’t say anything else, which is fine, because he doesn’t need to.  Ford can manage this all by himself, because Bill’s wrong.  He’s not a failure.

He’s gonna prove it, too.

[anysin]

Fic: It Will Go Ever On

For anon requester, a Billford with a take on "leaving notes around the house" theme! Post-show, SFW but slightly creepy.

It Will Go Ever On

There is a yellow post-it note on the corner of Ford's desk in the basement, reminding him to eat during the day. When a black outline of a triangle appears into the corner of the note, he know his days of peace are over.

"Bill." If he talks about the things he's afraid of out loud, they will have less power. Ford doesn't believe that for a moment, never with Bill, but he might as well try.

*

The triangles start to appear on regular basis: they pop up in the pages of Ford's papers and books, in the steam on the mirror when Ford is taking a shower. They only appear on Ford's belongings and whenever he is alone, and while that is its own threat, it also makes it easy to hide it all from Stan. His family has suffered enough because of Bill; if he's rising again, Ford will deal with him on his own this time.

Ford investigates what he can, for unusual sources of power, strange phenomenon, for any signs of other Bill sightings, but he finds nothing; Bill is manifesting around him alone. It could mean that Bill is weak, perhaps even unconscious of his own actions. Finding him sooner than later is, therefore, critical, so Ford puts all his efforts into it. But Bill remains out of sight, and the triangles keep appearing.

The first time an eye appears inside the triangle, Ford knows it's a sign there is conscious intent behind this.

"I see you," he says to the large triangle on his blackboard, staring into its eye before starting to wipe it off.

*

Soon after the eye, the triangles are accompanied by messages.

The first ones are simple, one-word messages, "hi" or "hello" or "greetings", but it doesn't take long until they are "hey there, Sixer!" and then things like "greetings from the afterlife, how are the last years of yours treating you?" and Ford knows he has to hurry. He prepares all his old anti-Bill measures, observes increasingly suspicious Stan for signs of possession, keeps tabs on the kids. He will fight on his own, but at the same time he will make sure the people he cares about are safe.

He pretends he's not being selfish.

It's just frustrating not to know where Bill is and what is exactly happening with him. Despite Ford's constant searching, he hasn't been able to find any signs of Bill being present in this world in any other form; he seems to exist only in these messages, only to Ford. That could be for any reason, but the part of him hopes it's because of him.

Even if he can't haunt him, Ford wants to be on Bill's mind too.

*

When Bill finally makes a full appearance in Ford's dreams, it's not a surprise. What is surprising is how their encounter goes down.

"Your Mindscape is cozy these days," Bill comments, floating in the captain's cabin of Stan O'War 2. "Never thought you'd take to family life so well. You always surprise me, Stanford."

It's been a while for Ford, too. He looks out of the windows of the cabin, seeing that the sea outside is calm despite Bill's presence; no other monsters to be seen. The sea outside is vast, limitless, full of opportunities, just as it should be.

He should want to be outside on the deck, wish that Stan was here. But he stares at Bill, whose light seems to be a little dimmer, whose energy is flagged, and although he has been spent feeling his own dread build up, he can't help but think that this isn't how it should be. Even though he knows that this is changing, that it's only a matter of time that Bill is all the way dangerous again.

"I will be ready for you," Ford says. "You won't catch me unprepared again."

"You have always learned quickly." Bill's voice, at least, is exactly what it used to be, still searing Ford's ears, still smug. "I've missed you, Sixer. It should be fun to scuffle with you again."

Bill floats across the air, over to Ford. He reaches out, pokes Ford in the nose.

"I'm the one who's going to get you this time," he says. "Prepare for that."

Ford wants to be rid of Bill. He wants his family safe.

"We'll see," he replies, and wakes up.

*

Yet he wants nothing more than Bill to make his threat come true.

[orangeoctopi7]

@forduary Welll, I’m late and I’m ignoring all the prompts, and I likely won’t be able to do the next couple of weeks due to a family vacation, but at least I’ve got SOMETHING this year!

Don’t blame me, blame Pokemon taking all of my free time. Featuring that ADHD thing where you don’t finish processing what a person has said until after you’ve already reacted. Or is that just me?

As it turns out, instinct took over and I punched him right in the face.

I feel kind of bad about that!

Stanford Pines had made mistakes. Severe, catastrophic mistakes. Perhaps not as numerous as some other people, but he knew this was a case where the quality far outweighed the quantity. 

But Ford was determined to do everything in his power to fix them.

Some mistakes were beyond his power to fix. He’d been pushed out of his home dimension before he’d had a chance to dismantle the portal, or to let Fiddleford know he was right, or to look after the burn he’d inflicted on his brother. But the very worst mistake of his life was trusting Bill Cipher, and after thirty years of work, he finally, finally had a solution!

With the quantum destabilizer, he’d finally be able to kill his greatest enemy, and the peril he’d put the multiverse in by building the portal would finally be averted. And when Bill was finally gone… well, Ford knew better than to hope he would survive the encounter. But if he got lucky once more, perhaps he could finally try and find a way back to his home dimension. When the Nightmare Realm was no longer teaming with Bill and his ilk, it might actually be safe to attempt opening a passage back.

Speaking of Bill and his ilk, the triangular demon had sicced what seemed to be every last one of his goons on Ford the moment he’d arrived. But the scientist had been planning this for years. The quantum destabilizer wasn’t the only weapon he’d brought with him. A few concussion grenades, his laser gun, and a death ray made quick work of the oncoming army.

But not quick enough.

Ford looked around frantically, trying to catch a glimpse of his nemesis through the injured foes floating around him. He couldn’t have lost his chance already! 

No… there! He glimpsed a yellow corner just before it disappeared into a cluster of architecture that appeared to be made up entirely of optical illusions. A large sign floating above dubbed it the Quadrangle of Qonfusion. Ford grit his teeth, both at the erroneous spelling, and the fact that Bill was getting away.

Kicking off the prone body of one of Bill’s kronies, he practically flew across the space to his target. The Quadrangle seemed to rush to meet him, and he reached the entrance much faster than he expected, almost like space had warped to his will.

Just as he’d hoped, he found Bill inside the bizarre building. The optical illusions made real left him guessing whether the triangle was right in front of him, or far away.

“WELL, WELL, WELL! LOOK WHO’S COME BACK TO ME, LIKE A KICKED DOG!” Bill said smugly.

“I’m here to destroy you!” Ford seethed. 

“RIGHT, LIKE I HAVEN’T HEARD THAT ONE BEFORE.” Bill rolled his eye.

“If you’re so confident, then why are you running?” 

“OH SIXER,” Bill reached out across the indeterminate distance between them and flicked Ford’s nose, “I HAVEN’T LASTED THIS LONG BY STICKING AROUND AND LETTING PEOPLE TAKE POT-SHOTS AT ME!” 

With a wordless snarl, Ford tried to grab the triangle’s wrist, but it wasn’t where he thought it would be, and his hands closed around empty space.

Bill laughed cruelly. “YOUR STUPID THREE-DIMENSIONAL BRAIN WILL NEVER FIGURE THIS PLACE OUT. OF COURSE, YOU ALWAYS WERE A SMART GUY, RIGHT IQ? THAT’S WHY I PICKED YOU, AFTER ALL! MAYBE YOU COULD REACH ME… IN ANOTHER 12 YEARS! MY HENCHMANIACS SHOULD BE ABLE TO CATCH YOU BY THEN.”

“Shut up!” The researcher screamed. He didn’t want a reminder of how Bill had manipulated him in the past. 

But Bill’s threat was far from idle. He could indeed hear the monsters he’d just defeated stirring. They’d be on him in minutes. He needed to act fast. 

After carefully considering his surroundings, Ford took aim and fired! He thought he had lined it up perfectly, but the shot flew wide, not even coming near the triangle.

Bill’s laughter grated in his ears like a drill on his teeth. 

“AHAHAHAHAHA! I COULD WATCH THIS ALL DAY!” Bill waved his hand and a bag of popcorn appeared. Rather than eating it, he dumped the whole thing out on Ford’s head. 

Ford looked up in frustration. How was Bill doing this? They were nowhere close to each other! This place made no sense, it was a complete violation of the laws of physics!

That’s when it clicked. This was Bill’s dominion. The known laws of the universe were merely a suggestion his own biased brain was imposing on his surroundings. When he’d rushed single-mindedly after Bill, the Quadrangle of Qonfusion had rushed to meet him. 

Stanford cleared his mind of all other thoughts and lunged at Bill, taking aim one more time.

“You’re a dead man, Cipher!” He spat.

Bill’s single eye widened as he realized that something had changed. “WHAT!?” 

The triangle was in Ford’s crosshairs, his finger resting firmly on the trigger, a single muscle contraction away from finally ending this.

A tremor rocked the entire Nightmare Realm, causing Ford to misfire yet again.

A pulsing sphere of blue light took form just outside the Quadrangle of Qonfusion, with energy crackling off it. Stanford flinched when it washed over him, but rather than hurt, it felt soothing. The general discomfort of his subatomic particles being just barely out of sync with the rest of the matter around him died away for the first time in 30 years. 

This was a portal home.

Bill didn’t seem to notice yet, he was too busy laughing at Ford’s latest failure. But his lackeys, already on their way to tear Ford limb from limb, certainly had, and they were closing in fast. 

Ignoring his need for revenge demanding that he take another shot at Bill, and leave his home to its fate, he rushed along the Quadrangle, using his newfound skill to bend space to his will in order to catch up with Bill’s forces.

Unfortunately, these monsters knew that trick too, and they would reach the portal first if Ford didn’t think of something to stop them, fast! He didn’t have time to fight them all again, but perhaps he could still make use of the weapons he’d brought along. The laser and the death ray wouldn’t be much help in this situation, but the concussion grenades would push the advancing creatures back, while also pushing him right into the portal.

At least that’s what he hoped. If he misplaced the explosion, he could very well end up pushing his enemies into his home dimension. 

There wasn’t time to think of alternatives. If that happened, he’d dispose of them once the portal had collapsed.

With a “hup!” he lept from what he willed to be the highest point of the Quadrangle, and threw the concussion grenade behind him. He kept his focus on the portal and willed it towards him. He couldn’t even look around him to see if any of his foes would make it through the portal as it closed behind him.

After the few seconds of disorientation and nausea that came with interdimensional travel, Stanford found his footing in a dark, spacious room. The portal lab in the basement under his house. He looked around cautiously, still on high alert. Who had rebuilt the portal? Had Bill managed to trick someone else into rebuilding it? Had any of the Nightmare Realm’s denizens been able to follow him through?

As his eyes quickly swept the room, the first thing he found was his third Journal, laying just a few feet in front of him. He strode cautiously forward and pocketed it. So that’s how they’d managed it. He needed to hide this, and the other three, so the portal could never be rebuilt again.

He detected movement and words in the darkness in front of him. Someone was coming towards him, arms raised. They were speaking, but Ford’s brain was still in fight-or-flight mode, only half-processing the words. His first instinct was to punch the perceived threat.

It was only a few seconds later that his rational brain finished processing who this person was, and what they’d been saying.

“Finally! After all these long years of waiting, you're actually here! Brother!”

It was Stanley.

Ford’s brain had a few seconds to settle and catch up as Stan rubbed his jaw where he’d been hit. 

“Ow! Ow, what was that for?”

“This was an insanely risky move, restarting the portal!” The researcher exclaimed, already rationalizing his actions. “Didn't you read my warnings?!” 

But even as they argued and explained the situation to the three other people stuck down there with them, even as he learned that his brother had added identity theft and making a mockery of the supernatural to his list of grievances, Stanford couldn’t quell the persistent guilt resting in his gut.

The last time he’d seen Stanley, he’d accidentally burned him. Now he’d punched him. And no matter how many times he told himself that maybe Stan deserved it, after all his brother had done, Ford couldn’t shake the feeling of regret.

Even as he wrote down the days events in his Journal, he found himself writing:

I feel kind of bad about that!

Ford shook his head and scoffed at himself. Writing came more naturally to him than talking, which was usually an advantage, but it occasionally led to him recording his unfiltered thoughts like this. He crossed it out with a heavy line. Why should he feel bad about that? He’d been so close. So, so close to finally fixing the biggest mistake of his life, and Stanley had come along and messed it all up again!

Putting the Journal down with a sigh, Ford reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an old and worn photograph. Like the many times he’d looked at it before, it brought to the surface a potent mixture of emotions. Oh how he longed for the days when he’d been that smiling sunburnt boy, when he’d felt that all he needed to take on the cruel world was his brother by his side. Stanley had made awful mistakes, true, but were they really any worse than the ones Stanford himself had made? Before today, Ford would have said no, and he’d spent many a sleepless night staring at this photo and wondering what he’d do if he ever had the chance to see his own twin again. He was still mad, of course, but he also missed Stan, and he would wonder dismally if their friendship could even be salvaged if they had the chance.

Then Stan had to go and rebuild the portal, resurrecting one of the greatest mistakes of Ford’s life, when Ford had brought him here 30 years ago with the express purpose of undoing it. All this time, he’d assumed, or at least hoped, that Stan, after seeing the machine whisk his brother away, would have understood how dangerous it was and destroyed it. 

But no, he should have known that Stan would stop at nothing to rescue him, even if he didn’t want it. And Ford hated to admit it to himself, but he probably would have done the exact same thing, had their roles been reversed. Ultimately, Stan’s heart had been in the right place. Unfortunately that didn’t fix things. It only made Ford’s feelings towards him all the more difficult to work out.

He thought back to earlier that evening, when he’d changed into a spare set of clothing Stan had brought him, and they’d stood in front of the mirror together. For just a brief moment, Stanford had truly been happy to be with his brother again, sharing a bad joke together. Then the enormity of all that Stan had done, and all that Ford still had to do in order to fix both their mistakes now, weighed down on him. That happiness didn’t necessarily disappear, but it became muddled with anxiety and frustration and betrayal.

Stanford put the photo away in a safe pocket, right next to his heart, and buried his head in his hands. Why did this have to be so difficult? When did things get so messed up between them?

Ford had dreamed of this day for 30 years, and absolutely nothing had gone right.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 9 - A Deal is Made

When Stan ran off, to Ford’s relief – he didn’t think he could handle any more of Bill’s cruelty towards his little brother – the demon didn’t chase after him. After his little display Bill turned to Ford with a wide, unnatural grin and lifted his arms like an actor bowing after a particularly brilliant performance.

“I do a wonderful Stanford impression, don’t I? It’s pretty easy. You’re like a broken record, Sixer, all repetitive and annoying. ‘My science project, my science project!’ But I really think I spiced it up a bit while still staying in character!”

Ford stabbed a finger at the demon wearing his skin. “You – how dare you?”

Bill merely shrugged and rifled through Ford’s pockets, letting out a little ‘ah’ of triumph when he pulled out a pocket knife. “Hah! I didn’t take you for the stabbing type.”

“It’s for self defense!” Ford fumed.

“Sure, sure, don’t wanna get eaten alive by monsters, excuses excuses.” Bill stepped back, sizing up a nearby tree. “I was looking for rope but this will work too.”

“Wait, what are you-”

Bill placed one hand against the tree’s bark and slammed the pocket knife into it, cutting through skin and flesh to bury the knife into hard wood. Ford hissed.

“That should do it!” Bill said cheerfully, watching blood drip down Ford’s wrist. “That looks like it’s gonna be a gusher, Sixer. I wouldn’t take the knife out if I were you. You never know, maybe you’ll bleed to death!”

Ford very deliberately kept his mouth shut about the placement of arteries in the human body. What Bill didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. And getting stabbed through the hand couldn’t hurt that much, could it?

He soon found out, once Bill zipped away and he lunged back into his own body, that it did indeed hurt. Ford bit down a scream and fought to keep his hand still. Every twitch and tremor sent pain racing down his arm and he was very aware of the metal piercing through his hand, sharp edge rubbing up against skin and muscle and nerves.

Ford grabbed the handle of the pocket knife with his free hand (pain pain pain) and wrenched it out. This time he couldn’t smother the scream that bubbled from his lips. He dropped the bloody knife and clutched at his bleeding hand.

Calm. Calm down. He couldn’t help anyone if he was panicking.

Ford fumbled around in his pockets until he found a handkerchief, wrapping it around the seeping wound and tying it tight with his teeth. It wasn’t a long-term solution but it would stop dirt getting under the skin, and hopefully slow the bloodflow. Though the fabric was already getting stained with red.

Move. He didn’t have time to waste, Bill could have caught up to Stan already. Who knew what the demon would do? Ford took off through the trees in the direction he had seen Stan run, every step sending a flash of burning pain up his arm.

By the time he caught up with his brother he was lightheaded, a yellow triangle swimming in his vision – Stan looked so small, so confused in the demon’s shadow. Ford would not fail his brother again.

“STAN!”

 _______________________________________________________________

Ford was here. Stan’s gaze snapped up at his brother’s shout, the traitorous part of him whispering, ‘apologize, make him like you again’. He clenched his fists as Ford staggered into sight, looking kinda pale.

“Stan-” Ford caught a tree and clung to it as he struggled to regain his breath. He looked shaky, and Stan ached to go over and make sure he was alright. He took a few steps past the demon despite himself. “Stanley – listen to me, whatever Bill is telling you, it’s a lie-”

“Well well well well well!”

Stan was treated to the lovely sight of the skin on Bill’s back peeling open to reveal an eyeball, his body contorting and turning inside out until he was staring right at Ford with that neon yellow gaze.

“Just when I thought I’d taken care of you.”

Stan hesitated, the word striking a chord. “…taken care of? What does that mean?”

Bill drifted forward, placing himself in front of Stan but Ford looked right past the triangle, staring at Stan with desperation in his gaze. It made Stan’s stomach twist, made him feel guilty and angry and so very confused. He wrapped his arms around himself and backed away, Ford reaching after him.

“Stanley please. I’m sorry – I was stupid and cruel and I treated you badly because I was angry, but you didn’t deserve it. I saw what Bill said to you in my body and it’s not true, Stan, none of it’s true-”

“Shut up!” Stan stabbed a finger in Ford’s direction, glaring at him through tears. Ford didn’t even look scary anymore – just afraid, and that was the scariest thing. Adult Ford was supposed to be big and determined, he wasn’t supposed to be afraid. “Just – just shut up! I don’t even know what you’re saying!”

“Exactly!” Bill’s cheerful tone reverberated through the trees, making Stan shiver despite himself. “The man’s speaking nonsense, don’t listen to him.”

Stan wasn’t smart, but he wasn’t totally stupid either. He could see the ‘shut up’ glare the demon sent his brother. Bill was trying to be his friend, why was he hiding something from him?

Ford pushed himself off the tree to stand by himself, gaze still fixed on Stan. “The eyes, Stanley! What colour were my eyes, when I was saying those terrible things to you?”

“I dunno!” Stan yelled back.

What kind of stupid question was that? Stan didn’t want to think about that, he didn’t want to think about how he was a dead weight and a nuisance and how Ford was better off without him. But something – something about that encounter seemed off…

“Answer me, Stanley!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“What colour were my eyes?”

“Yellow!”

Wait.

Yellow?

“Please believe me.” Ford stepped closer, holding his hands out desperately. “Bill took over my body and he made me hurt you, more than I already have. He’s evil, he’s trying to take advantage of you and trick you into doing terrible things. And – I know you have no reason to believe me. I know I’ve treated you badly, since you arrive at Gravity Falls and before that. But please.”

Stan twisted his hands, anxiety swirling in his stomach and making him want to barf. He glanced up at the fuming demon.

“You’re all-powerful, right?”

“Stanley no-”

Bill’s body flashed lemon-yellow, his eye curling into a grin as he spun around to face Stan. “Sure I am kid! I can get you anything you want.”

“…anything I ask for? Anything at all?”

“You bet!”

“Stanley! He��s trying to trick you, he’s evil-”

“Oh shut it, Sixer!” Bill snapped his fingers and Ford’s body lurched sideways, sending him slamming into a tree with a yelp. He slumped to the grass. Stan dug his fingers into his palms. “See, kid? When you open the portal I’ll be even more powerful! Enough to give you anything you want.”

Stan looked between the prone body of his brother and the demon, and he made his decision. His hand reached out to snatch Bill’s.

“It’s a deal.”

Blue flames erupted across their joined hands, flicking over Stan’s skin but not burning, warm and tickly. Bill’s eye creased up in a grin.

“I knew you were the smart one! Now come on, name your price! Anything you want is yours, once you open the portal for me.”

Stan frowned, staring at their joined hands. The fire was the least weird thing about these last few days – it blazed warm and blue, spitting sparks every which way. Hypnotizing, almost. It was so much power – not his, of course – but flaming at his fingertips. He wanted it.

Bill released his hand, letting Stan’s drop down by his side. Stan stuffed them in his pockets, feeling the tingle of residual warmth against his skin.

“Well? I don’t have all day!” Bill heaved a sigh, folding his little stick arms. Stan’s mouth tasted sour. “What’s your price? A galaxy all of your own, right? Or a billion dollars?”

“…I want a hug.”

Silence reined in the clearing.

“Are you kidding me?” Bill’s eye hung open in disbelief. “I’m offering you your own galaxy and all you want is a flipping hug?”

Stan nodded. “Yep. And like you said, you gotta give it to me.” He opened his arms. “I want my hug now.”

Bill sighed in frustration. “I’m incorporeal, kid, I can’t give hugs. Why would I even want to touch a fleshbag like you in the first place?”

Stan put his hands on his hips. “You’re just gonna have to be corp-or-real. I know you can, you can touch and move things around! You gotta do the deal or the whole thing’s off, remember?” He scowled. “If I don’t get my hug you can’t use me to open the portal.”

“Ugh.” Bill’s form shimmered, becoming a little more corporeal – enough, at least, to interact with the physical world. The triangle’s ‘face’ screwed up. “Gross. Let’s get this over with already.”

He extended his stick-arms out with a grimace, and Stan flew in to hug him, wrapping tiny arms around the triangular body and squeezing tight. Bill let out a disgusted noise and patted his back awkwardly.

“There. There’s your hug.”

Stan pulled back enough to grin at him. “You give shit hugs.” Then he jammed the magic capsule into Bill’s huge eye.

 The triangle-

 Screamed.

 There was an explosion of light and colour and searing heat that scorched across his face and Stan was flying back, breath knocked out of his lungs. He slammed into something and that something wrapped its arms around him and swung him away from the blast, shielding him with its body.

 When Stan’s ears stopped ringing and the spots faded from his vision, the sight that met his eyes made him freeze.

 Bill was dripping, fizzling like a dying candle, his eye seeping down his figure and body glitching red in places, showing glimpses of scarlet-colored bricks and bits of muscle and scenes played in sepia like they were being shown on an old TV. The demon lurched towards them, fingers curled into half-melted claws and body pulsing with its deep, distorted voice like an earthquake.

 “STANLEY-”

  There was the pop of a rifle being discharged and a hole blew open Bill’s body. Something crackled like broken glass, and then the demon

shattered.

[seiya234]

and all the trees of the field will clap their hands, 1/?

oh hey look a new multi-chaptered fic. as always, I blame @marypsue.  Very important note! This particular chapter is rated R for some gentle descriptions of married middle aged people having sex in the woods. If you want to skip that, it is in the last third of the chapter and has mostly little to do with the plot. 

---

There are three ways this story begins: the short way, the medium way, and the long way.

—————————————

The short way was one day in the dying days of autumn, Stan got a call from Ford, who was on the Atlantic right now and headed towards New Jersey and

“Have the children ever been to New Jersey? To Glass Shard Beach?”

Stan adjusted the phone in the crook of his shoulder while he began to stir the bowl of Stancakes he was making, and coughed without covering his mouth.

“I think Mark took the twins when they were, fuck, six? The kids though? Never.”

“Well. I would love to see you.”

(In this universe do Stan and Ford share the ease and togetherness of other, more canon realms? No- their paths met for but a year or two before diverging again. But there was no anger, no bitterness, no sorrow in their parting, and a good relationship is still a good relationship.)

“Me too.” An idea hatched in Stan’s mind.

“When did you say you’d be in harbor again?”

---

“I have a proposition for you kiddo.”

“And I get frightened when you start using five dollar words old man.” Dipper laid down a three card book of jacks.

“Yeah yeah yeah. Look, this year’s been fucking trash right?”

Dipper thought about it. Then he thought about it again. The kids had turned 15....and then in the year following, Willow almost died, Henry became something Eldritch and Unknowable, Willow killed a grown woman, Henry was kidnapped, and they started teaching the kids how to drive.

Their 16th birthday party, while still having some of that patented Pines (mabel) Madness, was noticeably a little more subdued and scaled down than it probably would have been.

“Ford’s coming to Glass Shard right after Christmas, and since the kids don’t have to go back until middle of January, we were thinking-“

Stan laid down a run, a 4-5-6 of hearts off of Dipper’s 7-8-9. “Why don’t you and me take the kids to see Ford?”

Dipper’s brow furrowed. “You and me- what about Mabel and Henry?”

“I was thinking that maybe they’d like some time.” Stan raised an eyebrow. “Alone Dipper.”

Dipper raised his hands defensively. “Hey! I didn’t show up for their honeymoon or anything.”

“Yeah cookie for you. And when was the last time they had more than two days alone? Uninterrupted? By the kids or you?”

“Uh.” Dipper thought about it. Then he blushed. “Uh.” He drew a card.

“Exactly.” Stan laid down a book of aces, and discarded his last card, going out. “I’ll call Ford, you tell the kids.”

“What about Mabel and Henry?”

Stan snorted. “They said yes before I could finish.”

——————————————-

The long way this story begins is in 1866, when a callow and cruel young man with a trunk of grey clothes and a bloody saber inside landed in the newish state of Oregon to start a new life.

What is this young man’s name? I could tell you, but quite frankly he was a hateful piece of shit, so I’d rather not.

Here’s what you need to know about him.

He was the bosom friend of Nathaniel Northwest- they had fought side by side in the same regiment, and when the young man needed somewhere to run fast, it was Nathaniel who promised to smooth the way in return for working for him- he was strong, right? And Nathaniel knew he wasn’t adverse to rousting out some trash.

He was handsome. He towered over almost everyone in town, arms and legs draped with muscle, beautiful blonde hair, all of his teeth, and a smile that never reached his blue eyes.

And no one ever told him no. 

He was loved by girls who didn’t know better, and enjoyed by women who knew to keep him at arms’ length. He was offered many favors, and he took advantage of each and every one. 

A few times those favors ended with squalling, squealing piglets, red and angry and helpless. And the young poacher would take them from the homes of his cast off swains, promising to deliver the babe to a cousin’s farm the next county over, to a man running a tavern who needed the help, to a childless spinster he had heard about...

He took them to a pit he had in the forest, where he tossed them in and then covered them in dirt until the squealing stopped. 

Mayhap some one suspected. But he was handsome and the friend of the town founder.

And no one ever told him no. 

A fan of taking things out of season was our young man. In his hut he scalped the fur from foxes with dugs still full of milk and bear cubs that hadn’t even had the time to accumulate fat to use. The corpses of deer laid out back, the meat rotting on the corpse while the young man only desired the antlers for his home. The little corn he bothered to plant withered on the stalk, choked by weeds in an un-hoed field. 

It should go without saying of course that any pigs or cows or horses he found wandering, branded or not, soon became his cattle. For the Huntsman took what he pleased and did what he wanted. He ate and drank and killed and fucked 

And no one ever told him no. 

Until one day when he ran into the Corduroy girl in the woods. 

The men at the tavern told him to be wary of Etta Corduroy; she had a way of riling up their wives and giving them ideas. Nathaniel Northwest told him to be wary of Etta Corduroy; she had been talking with his loggers, giving them ideas. And his current swain told him to be wary of Etta Corduroy; for she spent far too much time alone in the woods.

(they called her a witch. and since this was gravity falls, they were right.)

But still when the young man saw her gathering mushrooms near his hut, he went to her. But still his hand strayed to her breasts when she rebuffed him. But still he grabbed her throat when she tried to scratch him, tried to run away.

Because no one ever told him no.

Not if they knew what was good for them. 

So it was to his great surprise that when Etta Corduroy managed to get a hand on his chest, and spat out some unknowable word, that the world itself told him no.

It felt like a horse kicked him in the chest. It felt like the blood in his veins suddenly turned into boiling steam. Every cut he had ever gotten on his skin suddenly opened up, every muscle in his body seized up going rock hard and rigid, and it was hard to breathe, it was hard to see, it was hard to do anything at all except to fall down on the ground and writhe in pain as Etta ran away. 

She ran away and she left him there. She left him there, bleeding and screaming and sobbing, covered in blood and spit, piss and tears, raining down from his body to feed the earth below him, the pit that he had tossed so many bodies in before. 

Perhaps in his final moments the cruel callow youth should have been scared. But what he was instead was incandescently angry, because these were his woods, his to do with what he wanted, his his HIS-

And no one, ever, ever, told him no.

It was as his breath was growing shallow, as a disconcerting amount of deer began to circle around him, that he noticed the bright yellow triangle floating above him.

“... what?”

“WHOOPSIE CHAMP! LOOKS LIKE THAT WITCH DID A NUMBER ON YOU!”

“that... that...that bitch.”

“PERSONALLY I THINK THERE’S BETTER THINGS TO DO WITH ORGANS THAN EXPLODE THEM BUT THAT’S NOT WHY I’M HERE.”

The Huntsman coughed up more blood. It launched up in the air before splattering all over his face.

“YEESH. GROSS. SO YEAH, CAN’T SAVE YOUR LIFE. BUT I CAN OFFER YOU SOMETHING EVEN BETTER!”

“What.... what would it cost me?”

“ONLY THE LOW LOW PRICE OF YOUR SOUL! BUT DON’T WORRY! AS LONG AS YOU D̀O ̡W͠H͝A͟T I̢ ͜ŚAY̢ , I’LL NEVER COME TO COLLECT!”

“What do you want?”

“I’VE GOT SOME BIG PLANS FOR THIS TOWN- NEVER YOU MIND WHAT- AND I COULD USE AN ENFORCER.”

“And-?”

“AND THESE WOODS WOULD BE YOURS BUCKO! YOURS TO DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO!”

No one ever told him no.

“Deal.”

--

Roadkill County, as it eventually became to be named, was always mostly forest. Even after a century and a half of logging, the forest remained, endured, survived.

But.

But there were always parts of the forest that were stripped bare.

There were parts of the forest where the Corduroys, noted by all and sundry to be the finest woodspeople in the state, refused to go.

There were parts of the forest where children would enter and never be seen again.

This is what Bill offered the Huntsman.

(for he was no longer the Callow Callous Youth, and he was certainly no longer Bruce Wilder)

The forest was the Huntsman’s to do with as he pleased, though he could only be corporeal during the light of the full moon-

(A CONVIENENT PLOT HOLE, I KNOW KID, BUT LOOK, YOU’RE DEAD, WORK WITH ME HERE)

But during that time he could hunt and do as he pleased. Meat could pass his lips, his arrows would hit true, and any person that crossed his path was his to toy and play with until they broke. 

And to help him do his bidding....and to amuse him when he was bored and intangible, the Huntsman was gifted with the souls of the pit, tiny mewling creatures finally turned to some purpose-

(SO THESE ARE YOUR BASIC LEVEL GHOULS POWERED BY FORSAKEN CHILDREN; I ADJUSTED THE SETTINGS SO YOU CAN PLAY WITH WHAT THEY CAN DO. SERIOUSLY, GO NUTS.)

-for they were his hounds in the hunt, they could harrow and harm his prey and in turn he had something he could hunt on the nights when the full moon was absent. 

There was only one hard rule, and that was he could never, ever leave the forest that surrounded Gravity Falls.

(”Why..?” His vision was fading but before whatever happened, he just... he just needed to know-

“YOU KNOW I DON’T NORMALLY ANSWER QUESTIONS FOR FREE,” the triangle said, twirling a cane that came out of nowhere. “BUT LETS JUST SAY THERE’S THINGS IN THIS FOREST THAT COULD INTERFERE WITH MY PLANS. AND I THINK YOU’LL DO SOME GOOD WORK HERE KID. JUST DO AS I SAY AND N̤̪̦̖̥͡ͅͅE͏͖̹̫̬V̬̼̼Ḛ̛̳͓R̯̥͕͖̬ ͉̝̼̟̮͢L͔̪E̝̳͔͟A̻̟͕̝̥̖͞V̶͈̗E̛̝.”

Well. It still seemed like he was coming out on top here.)

However, eventually the thrill of the chase paled, eventually rumors of his presence spread and both the human and non-human inhabitants of Gravity Falls learned to avoid the forest at the full moon. 

He turned to playing with his Beasts, growing crueler and crueler the more his boredom grew.

Yet despite his ennui, there was one other thing that kept the Huntsman in the forest, deal or no deal. For this is what the callous young man had found out after he had died.

There was no heaven.

There was no hell.

There was just life, endless, endless, endless rounds of life.

(some would marvel at the endless chances, endless possibilities for beauty and love and good food and song but we have already established that the callous young man was not that kind of person) 

However.

Within this cycle were also the times in between.

The times where potentially very very angry people would be waiting for you. 

So he waited, and hunted, and feasted, and waited.

And one day Bill was gone, and the deal was off, and that should have been it for the Huntsman but instead of dissipating he only felt himself grow more powerful. 

For the Huntsman had so long existed independent of Bill’s plans (indeed he never saw the triangle again), had established over a century of terror a reputation, that the knowledge of his story and the raw power of the Transcendence released some of the bonds on him and his Beasts. No longer were they bound by the light of the full moon. Though they still could not leave the forest, now his prey was limitless.

He had gotten perhaps a week or two of finally being able to live again when he was cornered by the Multibear. 

“I always wanted to fell you,” the Huntsman said, his Beasts snapping and slavering at his heels. 

The Multibear did not leap to his bait. “This is your warning Huntsman.”

“Warning?” The Huntsman lifted his arm, to show his newest acquisition, a coat of red caps, some still crusted with dried blood. “I am tireless. I am deathless. And you are my prey. What warning could you possibly give me?”

“I am warning you now; refrain from killing the sentient creatures of this forest, focus your sick attentions on the deer and rabbits.”

“Or else what?”

One of the Multibear’s heads smirked. “Surely, you are aware that a new demon arose in Bill’s place?”

The Huntsman rolled his eyes. “And what of it? He’s but a mere stripling. And he and his sister have never run into me, never heard of my story.”

“Have you considered that what Bill gave you, Alcor could take away?”

“That is just wishful thinking.”

The Multibear turned- turned! exposing his back!- away, with one head saying over his shoulder, “Look inside of yourself. Dwell. And you will find that it is the truth.”

The Huntsman paused. He stood still for a solid minute.

Then the blood drained from his face.

Okay. 

Okay, he could handle this. 

He just needed to wait until Alcor stopped living in Gravity Falls, moved out of that shack that the Mad Man built and the Con Man ran.

(the Con Man had once shot the cap off of his head as he had approached his shack. The Huntsman swore vengeance... he was just going to get to it. Eventually.)

The Huntsman waited. And waited. And waited.

For no one ever told him no. 

Until one day one of his Beasts brought him news of a deal it had overheard. 

A deal whereupon Alcor would be gone for two weeks, sworn by his power and blood to do so. 

The Huntsman, who was still obviously a colossal piece of shit, had unfortunately learned patience. And cunning. And dark magic.

He had a plan to make the forest truly his. A plan to make Gravity Falls his.

And from there well.

With his power, and the power he hoped to take, who knew where a bright, callous and callow youth could go from here? 

---

The medium way this story begins is on day three of the Super Awesome Second Honeymoon No Kid Vacation. 

Days one and two were scrubbing the house top to bottom. It was boring but the kids and Stan and Dipper were going to be gone for two weeks. Two! Weeks!!! Mabel thought it best to get the boring stuff out of the way first, to best optimize their time for smoochin, shenanigans, and sparkle spaghetti night.

So Henry lifted Mabel up so she could clean the gutters, and he mopped the whole house. She scrubbed the tubs and he fixed the basement door. They trimmed some tree limbs, changed the oil in the cars, put the zipline up for the winter, and all the other little things that needed doing but got lost in the hustle of raising three teenagers and running a small business and brokering peace amongst the gnome clans.

(Mabel could have asked for Dipper to do any or all of this for a price. And while some of it was a reluctance to rely on your magic brother for everything, more of it was just plain forgetting in the day to day of life.) 

But now the chores were done, and Mabel could spring her plan into action!

Step one!

“Heyyyyy Henry.... can you put this blindfold on please?”

Henry put down his newspaper-

(oof the things she loved most about him was his hands. They were almost comically oversized, even for a man as tall as him. Beautiful pianist fingers, a long, elegant palm, and between the two a truly astounding dexterity.)

-and asked, “How long will I have to have it on?”

Mabel thought about where step two was. “Uh, twenty five to thirty minutes while we walk?”

“Can we maybe put it on right before the surprise?”

Okay that was fair. And walking through the woods blindfolded was probably a bad idea? Yeah, it probably was.

“Okay!”

Step two! 

She had Henry kneel down so that she could actually put the blindfold on. She shivered as he was for once shorter than her, shivered as her hands tied the thick scarf around his eyes and her hips bumped into his back. Shivered as she helped him back up and took his hand. 

She could not wait for this.

Step three! 

Initially she was going to use their regular tent but Mabel was worried that if she had Henry kneel down it would give the game away so she had prepped a small pavilion tent instead, with the flap already open.

“Are we almost ready?” Henry asked.

“Mmmm hmmm,” Mabel answered, quickly taking off her sweater and skirt. She had spent a whole month crocheting lingerie for this. 

She was about to tell him to take off the blindfold, and then she paused.

She put back on her skirt, and instead took her husband into a gentle hug.

“You can take it off now.”

He took it off.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“This is just.... outside?”

Mabel grinned. “I’ve always wanted to.”

Her grin faltered. “If that’s... if that’s okay? 

There was a pause. And then Henry lifted her up, making her squeak like every time he did that. He brought his mouth to hers. And that was all the answer she needed.

Step four! 

What Mabel had dreamed about, from the moment her husband had become born again into someone new, someone not quite human, was this moment. She wanted him to pin her down with not only his arms (stronger, far stronger than they used to be) but with vines that sprang from the ground. She wanted to grab onto his antlers as she rode him into ecstasy. She wanted the earth to bloom around him, to trail her finger up and down his skin and see mushrooms bloom from her fingertips. 

What happened instead was that they had some very pleasant but very normal sex, except it was on the ground and the ground was kind of hard. 

She...

Well poop Mabel. Way to go and Mabel it up all over again. 

They both were still sweaty and panty, but Mabel reached out to begin putting her clothes back on; this... didn’t go quite like she expected. 

“Thank you honey. That was a lot of fun,” Mabel said, super casually and hopefully not betraying the turmoil roiling within her.

Henry smiled. “Of course.”

(he hoped that Mabel hadn’t noticed that the Woodsman had almost come out once or twice; it was being outside and he wanted to break free, to test his strength against hers, to grow new life in these woods and no-) 

They finished getting dressed and stepped out of the tent and

Mabel froze.

“Mabel?”

Inwardly, Mabel began to curse at herself for not bringing her bat. 

“Henry...” She looked around at the heavy fog around them both, sensed the deep knowledge that they were far from where she had led them, knew to her bone that the path home was concealed.

“I think I goofed.” 

[anistarrose]

Some Sunny Day Bonus Chapter 3: Seen and Unseen

AO3

Summary: A grove of birch trees on a familiar hill, an encounter in the woods that goes terribly wrong, and two memory guns.

Characters: Stan Pines, Bill Cipher, Ford Pines, Fiddleford McGucket, Blind Ivan

Been a while, huh? I was planning to celebrate the anniversary of finishing this fic with two bonus chapters just stuffed chock full of hurt/comfort, but then life happened (I got a part-time job and also mild insomnia, you know how it is) so enjoy some prequel angst instead! This one is canon to SSD and set in early 1982, shortly after the portal incident.

***

After a scare with frostbite in late February, Stan sets out at the first sign of melting snow to resume his search for the journals. A snowdrift had blocked several trails behind the house last week, but now they’re passable — so long as you don’t mind the overcast weather, and being up to your heels in mud.

Stan had enjoyed hunting for fake treasure and following Ford’s cryptic clues when they would pretend to be adventurers as kids — he’d been good at it, even. But this time, Ford has left him no hand-drawn treasure maps or whimsical riddles — only more ominous clues, like a ransacked, now empty medicine cabinet, or a ripped out journal page about being watched with X-ed out triangles drawn in all the margins. Clues that make Stan feel like throwing up, because they should mean something to him, but he just can’t bring himself to think it through and face the inevitable conclusion.

This is all my fault.

He stumbles to a halt at the foot of a hill, and realizes he’s surrounded by birch trees. He’s surrounded by eyes that never blink — or maybe, he thinks, before he can tell himself he’s going crazy, eyes that only blink when I’m blinking.

The birch trees don’t scare him the way the rest of the forest does — he’s not afraid of some creature or cryptid sneaking up on him here, where the forest is so deathly silent and he’s left all alone with himself. They don’t scare him the way the town does, either — despite everything, he feels less watched here, where there are no strangers shooting him suspicious glares or cloaked figures vanishing around corners and into the shadows.

No, the birch trees set Stan on edge because whenever he sees them — makes eye contact with them? — he knows he’s forgetting something. It’s something important, something horrible, something dangerous — like the fear of having left the stove on, except multiplied by a million. Disaster is impending, and he’s the one to blame.

This is where I belong.

He hates this place, but he’s come this far, so he can’t leave without giving the eerie birch grove a proper search. He doubts that Ford, at the height of his paranoia, would hide a journal on a hill where even the trees could watch him — but if Stan leaves now, and can’t find the journal anywhere else in the valley, he knows he’ll have to revisit this place eventually. He doesn’t ever want to revisit this unpleasant memory again, if he can avoid it.

Setting out to leave no stone unturned, he finds there are few stones on the hill to turn in the first place. There are few hiding places of any sort, nor any signs of recent digging. Stan suddenly regrets throwing out his metal detector all those years ago, and wonders if the other journals have enough brass in them to give a signal —

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up before he realizes why. He knows someone’s coming before he hears the snap of twigs or the hushed voices, the murmur of “look at the footprints, he came this way.”

They’re coming from the direction of his — Ford’s house. They must’ve followed him — or as they believed it, followed Ford out here for a reason.

“Who’s there?” Stan shouts, cringing as he hears how hoarse his voice is. His impression of Ford improves as he adds, “What brings you out here?”

“We could ask the same of you, Dr. Pines,” a deep voice booms as two figures in hooded red robes step into view, one more hesitantly than the other. They both wield identical, uncomfortably gun-shaped contraptions. “Still haven’t given up on your project, have you?”

If these cultists, or assassins, or whatever the hell they are know anything about Ford, then Stan needs to know it too. He takes a measured risk.

“I have a lot of projects. You’ll have to be more specific —”

“Ya know what we mean, Stanford.” It’s the second robed figure who speaks up, the one who’d lagged behind his deep-voiced co-conspirator, and the Southern accent throws Stan for a loop. His words suggest some kind of threat, but his gun-toting arm hangs limp at his side. “I — I didn’t want to do this, I really didn’t — but you’re becomin’ a danger, Ford, a danger to yourself and to everyone. And we — we’re here to stop you.”

“Wait!” Stan holds up his hands, dropping his Ford impression. “You’ve got this all wrong! Ford’s not dangerous, he’s in danger and I’m trying to —”

“Enough excuses!” the first figure barks, raising his gun. “IT IS UNSEEN!”

Blue light beams out of the contraption’s bulb, and Stan instinctively raises a hand to shield himself — but the light bends in midair, as if refracted by an invisible prism. It illuminates the clearing like a flash of lightning, but misses Stan by a mile.

“I told you to wait,” he whispers. He understands nothing about the bending of the light, yet somehow, could not be more certain that he alone had caused it.

“Ford?” the second figure asks, no longer sounding hesitant nor conflicted. There’s only one emotion in that voice, and it’s fear.

His companion, on the other hand, aims again without a word — and the light soars over Stan’s head as he falls to his knees, numb to the pain of the impact. Numb to everything except one thought, one single truth, easier to face than any sort of self-reflection on the power he held.

They think I’m Ford. They tried to hurt Ford. They tried to hurt Ford. They tried to —

He makes a fist with his right hand, and he sees the scene through a hundred new perspectives as sickly yellow eyes blink to life on every birch tree. He makes a fist with his left hand, and the forest comes alive.

The robed figures trip over gnarled roots, one of them even dropping his gun, but the trees continue to animate, trunks bending over and bare branches wrapping themselves around limbs. A wind whips through the grove as the cultists flail, begging as they make eye contact — not with the arboreal limbs ensnaring them, but with Stan’s body itself.

And Stan watches in both complete control, and complete disbelief of it all.

There’s a pressure against his skull, a dam about to burst after holding the flood of memories back for too long. There are leaks already, trickles of information and sparks of blue fire that chill him to his core, as images flash through his mind without coming from the birch trees, or even from his own lifetime.

Ford’s not the dangerous one. I am.

Ford’s the one who’s in danger.

Because of me.

The birches loosen their grip on the cultists, who flee the second they can shake themselves free. Stan’s left alone again, staring himself down with his hundred yellow eyes, and he can see guilt in every one of them.

He rises to a standing position, roots winding around his boots and bark creeping up his mud-soaked pants. He can’t face the world, he can’t face Ford, he can’t face himself knowing what he’s capable of, knowing that he’s the worst of all the monsters lurking in the woods —

As the trees of the grove reshape their roots and the ground shakes from the strain, the dropped gun bounces towards Stan’s feet.

It is unseen, he remembers one of the figures shouting.

He picks it up, inputs birch trees, and holds it to his head as he closes as many of his eyes as he can. Fire burns away his memories, and a deluge of ink-black water rushes in to absorb the ashes and fill their place.

***

Fiddleford McGucket runs for dear life with Ivan hot on his heels, until they reach the museum and barricade themselves inside an empty room, bracing themselves for pursuit. When it doesn’t come, Fiddleford enters a name into the memory gun, starting over several times after his trembling fingers betray him.

“Just — just another monster to erase,” Ivan stammers, “with a more human name than most.”

Fiddleford finally gets the spelling right. Two flashes of light with the input screen reading Stanford Pines, and memories of the day’s encounter — and then some — go up in flames.

It is unseen.

***

Stan is kneeling at the muddy base of an even muddier hill, surrounded by trees that look like they’re staring at him.

Or maybe, eyes that only blink when I’m — never mind. That’s ridiculous.

On the ground in front of him is a strange kind of gun, with a lightbulb in place of the barrel. He thinks he’s glimpsed some robed, vaguely cult-looking types carrying these around in town before, so after staggering to his feet, he smashes the device beneath his boot.

He has a feeling he’s forgetting something important again, but he can’t be bothered to try and remember again. He can’t bear to think about it any longer.

***

End notes:

This hill with the birch trees is the same one where Ford took a nap and first met Bill, so needless to say, Stan’s gut instinct about Ford not hiding any journals in a place like this was dead-on.

I have a lot more bonus content planned for this series, like the two-parter I alluded to in the earlier notes, but I’ve got no idea when any of that’s coming aside from a cautiously optimistic estimate of “later in 2020.” Once again, I’m so grateful for all the support you guys have given this fic from the beginning just over two years ago, to the “ending” exactly one year ago, all the way up through today :’)

[invisibletinkerer]

Fic: The Secret Journal of 'Stanford' Pines

Size: ~3000 words AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20864183

Stan Pines keeps a journal of brief daily notes during the summer of 2012.

Note: We all know that the Gravity Falls timeline makes no sense whatsoever. Therefore this is based on a headcanon timeline I made a year or so ago, trying to incorporate as many of the canon dates (in show and published J3) as possible, but ignoring the ones that were contradictory or made no sense. This still means some episodes did not happen in a strictly chronological order.

June 1

Kids are here. I have no idea what to do. Why did I agree to this.

Boy is a grump and girl made macaroni art in the kitchen. Did I even have macaroni?

 June 2 Sunday

I think boy got spooked in the forest. He seems fine, though. Good taste in gold chains.

Girl is now dating some punk kid.

 June 3

Kids looked like they’d been run over by the golf cart when they got back tonight. Not good.

Gave them some free gifts from the shop to cheer em up. Yes I know

Boy got a new hat. Should get him to wear a Mystery Shack shirt next. Girl found a grappling hook that was not in my inventory. Bold choice.

What would they say if they knew about me?

June 4

Fishing Season Opening Day – took the kids fishing.

Of course, they got excited about monster hunting instead. They’re listening to reason about as well as I and Fo did as a kid.

But. They came back to me in the end. We had fun.

I love those kids.

 June 5

Soos found those cursed old wax statues I sealed up some ten years ago. Don’t seem all that cursed now. One had melted.

Mabel’s gonna make a new one for the wax museum. Meaning I’ll have to figure out how to make suckers pay to look at wax statues again.

 June 6

Mabel’s wax creation nearly gave me a heart attack. It looks just like my twin me.

She’s crazy talented.

 June 7

I’d say the wax museum reopening went well. Assuming “well” means “profit”.

Did anyone actually think I’d hand out free pizza?

 June 8

Hanging out with my wax twin Stan, and the moment I turned my back he was murdered.

 June 9 Sunday

Tried to hold a funeral for Wax Stan. Failed to keep it tounge-in-cheek.

Face it, Ford is long gone

 June 10

Guess the wax people were still as cursed as I remembered. Kids killed them with fire – I should have done that long ago.

Dipper crawled in the vents all day looking for a wax head that got away.

If I keep telling him he’s delusional, he’s got to stop looking for trouble eventually, right?

 June 11

Mabel decided I should date Lazy Susan. Couldn’t stop her. Now Susan and her cats keep calling me.

This was a bad idea. (I will never tell Mabel that.)

 June 12

Went on a date with Lazy Susan to shut her up. That ended just as well as expected.

Need to figure out some more specific excuses.

 June 13

The worst thing is, the Portal should work now. It’s functional. I just can’t get it to start.

Maybe I’ve been doing it wrong all along

I did fix that old copier. Don’t know if it still makes copies of people, but at least it makes copies of paper again.

Caught Dipper making oogly eyes at Wendy. I smell drama.

 June 14

Did not expect “The Duchess Approves” to be that good.

 June 15

The traditional Mystery Shack party that has nothing to do with any birthdays.

Mabel is a great singer, and that Northwest brat cheated.

Happy birthday, Sixer.

 June 16 Sunday

Gideon Gleeful’s running TV ads again.

Of course my family goes to his show just to spite me.

 June 17

Mabel played with Gideon today. Did not see that one coming.

As long as she’s happy, I guess.

 June 18

I hate Pioneer Day.

Stupid people acting even stupider than normal, nothing works, then someone (me) ends up in the stocks.

 June 19

Gideon and Mabel are dating!?

Seemed like a horrible idea, but Bud Gleeful has a point on the moneymaking opportunities if we play it right.

 June 20

So if Mabel marries Gideon, his business will be incorporated into mine. I sure like the sound of that.

Bud is already making t-shirts.

 June 21

 June 22

OK, no. No deals with the Gleefuls. Not now or ever.

Mabel broke up with the little pest. Good riddance.

Got me a nice painting from Bud’s house, though.

 June 23 Sunday

The Mystery Fair! It may look cheap, but it brings in the money.

Though someone broke all safety protocols and brought a futuristic laser gun to Dunkle the Grunkle. That’s unfair.

Mabel has a pig now.

 June 24

Got roped into the gaming arcade with the kids.

Maybe get one of those games for the Shack?

 June 25

Mabel decided to fix my fear of heights.

I can say this – being on top of a water tower about to fall over was unpleasant. Compared to that, a high but stable ground isn’t so bad.

Dipper got into a fistfight with Wendy’s boyfriend over teenage drama, but good on him for standing up for himself.

 June 26

For some reason Gideon has gotten it into himself that he wants the Mystery Shack now.

Good luck, kid. I’m a better conman than you’ll ever be.

 June 27

Mabel is slightly taller than Dipper. This is funny.

Gideon Gleeful trying to be threatening while throwing a hysterical fit after breaking my new mirror maze – mostly confusing. Wish I knew what went on in that kid’s head.

 June 28

Kids made me wear the golden teeth. Guess they think I’m a dishonest man.

Fortunately, I’m good at bullshitting even when telling the truth. Think I scandalized the poor things. Hilarious.

Could have been disaster, though. Could have easily made them hate me.

 June 29

Spent half the day falling down the Bottomless Pit.

 June 30 Sunday

Summerween, now that’s a respectable local holiday.

Scaring children for fun and profit. Celebrating true evil together with family.

 July 1

Hottest day of the year. Wax Stan was permanently murdered by the weather.

Closed the Shack and went to the municipal pool with the kids.

Gideon stole my perfect pool chair. It’s on.

 July 2

Broke into the pool area at night to get the chair to myself. Which was a good plan, until I wanted to get up later in the day. The pest had coated it with glue.

The kids broke into the pool at night, too. Didn’t ask.

 July 3

Opened the Shack again.

Can’t be too lazy. Tourists to fleece and all that.

 July 4

 July 5

Mabel bet she could run the Shack better than I can. Well. I’m nothing if not a gambler.

So, three days of vacation, in which I will make more money than she will make running the Shack. Winner takes the Shack, loser sings a silly song.

Best case scenario, she learns something about business and stops complaining. Worst case, she actually makes money and then runs the Shack for me the rest of the summer. Not bad.

 July 6

Made it past the line to be a contestant on Cash Wheel, using my Old Man powers and lack of common decency.

Why is it so hard to sleep

 July 7 Sunday

Well. I lost at Cash Wheel.

Guess that means I lost the bet with Mabel, too. Unless I go rob a bank or something in the time I have left. Hm.

 July 8

Turns out Mabel barely broke even when running the Shack. She did win the bet, but she didn’t want my job, no surprise there.

I’m proud of her for learning something.

She still made me sing that song. On video tape. It’s kinda catchy.

 July 9

Mabel’s friends came for a sleepover. They make a lot of noice.

 July 10

Soos managed to uncover the door to Ford’s that old study I sealed thirty years ago the very moment the kids demanded separate bedrooms.

I never wanted to see that room again. His glasses were still there

Guess they didn’t want the room in the end, but now it’s open. Can’t re-seal it.

I think they messed around with the freaky carpet. Took it away at the end of the day just in case.

 July 11

I fucked up, but I fixed it.

I got Mabel’s pig back, even when I had to punch a pterodactyl in the face for it.

She doesn’t hate me.

I love that kid so much.

 July 12

That weird egg I pocketed from the dino-cave hatched. Dipper says it’s a compo-whatnot.

I call him Compy. He’s now my Mystery Pet.

 July 13

Soos’ birthday. The kids tried to throw a party, which is. Bad idea.

Think he appreciated laser tag, though. And the magic pizza they got him. Never seen him so happy on a birthday.

 July 14 Sunday

Turns out Compy is a very tiny dragon. Hoards stuff, mostly cash. In places I can’t reach.

It’s no good. Gonna hand the chicken-lizard over to farmer Sprott first thing in the morning before he bankrupts me.

 July 15

Mabel and her friends went to some boy band concert. Got back late with a large pack of spoils. Probably robbed someone.

Wendy’s boyfriend is charming her with homemade music. Dipper suspects magic. Can’t rule that out.

 July 16

There was a hypnotic message in the music, but telling Wendy about it only made the teenage drama worse.

Went bowling with Dipper afterwards to cheer him up. Should have a chat with Wendy, too.

 July 17

Gideon   I’m   How could

Didn’t know Gideon was that serious.

As if half-lucid dreams about that yellow triangle wasn’t bad enough. (The kids know something. Not asking. I want them to stay away from that stuff.)

We’re staying with Soos as I panic figure out how to fix this.

 July 18

I can’t fix this.

Gideon’s got the whole town eating out of his hand and I’m just a grouchy old man.

Doing the responsible thing. Got bus tickets to send the kids home tomorrow.

Whatever I do next, don’t want them to watch.

 July 19

GIDEON IS A LITTLE SHIT AND I AM AWESOME.

Figured out his trick, proved it in public and now he’s in jail.

Got the Shack back. Got the kids back.

And. Get this. Gideon had one of Ford’s missing journals. I have it now.

 July 20

I can’t believe it. Dipper. Had the third journal all summer.

All three of the dumb books are right here in front of me.

I activated the Portal. Simple as anything.

It’s scanning for Ford right now.

I’m actually bringing him back.

 July 21 Sunday

Grand reopening of the Mystery Shack turned into a zombie-fest.

Kids could’ve died because I was too busy with the Portal to pay attention. That won’t happen again.

Should have talked to them about weirdness sooner. Hope they believed me when I said I have no more secrets.

A little worried that government might have picked up signals from the Portal.

 July 22

Repairing the Shack. Too much undead slime to attract tourists like this.

 July 23

Re-reopened the Shack.

Dipper got himself an old laptop computer from somewhere. Probably stolen. He tried to hide it.

 July 24

Went minigolfing with the kids.

Mabel challenged Pacifica Northwest to a duel at midnight. I’m so proud of her.

Letting kids into minigolf courts at night to take a rich snob down a few pegs – finally putting my skills to good use.

 July 25

I still can’t believe the Portal works.

It keeps scanning.

 July 26

Tried to bring old Goldie back to the gift shop but apparently he’s unhip and scary. Had to throw him away before the parents sued me.

What I do need is a singing animatronic robot badger. That’s what kids like these days.

 July 27

Soos missed work for the first time ever. Seems to be girl trouble, but the kids are handling it.

Would’ve stolen myself a robot badger if it hadn’t tried to kill me. Saved by old Goldie. No way I’m not keeping him now.

 July 28 Sunday

Went for a Vegas vacation because I deserve it.

Not because I’m nervous.

Brought Goldie, might have gotten slightly drunk. And slightly married.

 July 29

Mabel found herself a new obsession with hand puppets.

She’ll throw a big show on Friday. Made me rent Gravity Falls theatre for her. (Can’t believe I did that.)

 July 30

The Shack is full of sock puppets and kids and Mabel keeps singing.

Guess this is my life now.

 July 31

 August 1

Soos went to his cousin’s wedding with his new girlfriend. Good on him.

Mabel’s still obsessing about puppets.

Dipper looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Can’t blame him with all this ruckus.

 August 2

Play was good! Think it paid for the costs, too. Mabel’s got showmanship.

Don’t get the ending, though.

I mean. Children fighting always makes for good footage, but was it necessary to beat Dipper up that bad? I swear Mabel don’t know how strong she is.

A little worried about Dipper. He seemed high as a kite all day. Probably sleep deprivation. At least he’s sleeping now.

 August 3

 August 4 Sunday

Gravity’s going more crazy around the Portal the longer it’s on, but I don’t care.

It hasn’t found Ford yet.

It won’t find him if he’s dead

 August 5

The Portal ate my notebook.

Got a nasty cut on the back of my hand from some debris, too. Could have been worse.

 August 6

Tried to advertise the Mystery Shack for the kids at the Woodstick Festival. Hilarious disaster.

Being feared is worth more than being loved anyway.

 August 7

 August 8

IT FOUND HIM.

He’s alive. There’s a lock on his position.

Fuck I don’t  I have to

I know how it works. It needs to calibrate for a while. It needs to be fueled for the big moment.

I’ll go rob a government facility right now.

(So glad the kids are off at the Northwest party tonight.)

27 hours and then I’ll see him again.

 August 9

Ford is back.

I had to run from the feds and the kids found out everything the wrong way but it worked and he’s back.

But he doesn’t  He still hates me.  

Why would I expect anything else.

Don’t know what I’d do with myself if the kids weren’t here.

It’s fine. I fucked up everything, but. Mabel trusts me. Dipper forgives me. I’m fine.

not crying

 August 10 Sunday

The Shack needs repairs again.

Spent most of the day making Duck-tective finale preparations with Mabel. We had fun.

Told the kids to stay away from Ford.

 August 11

Dipper has predictably decided to be nerd friends with my brother.

Can’t stop him. He looks happy. Both of them do.

Still can’t figure out why Ford would have reality altering dice lying around in his sci-fi pouch.

Anyway. I knew Duck-tective had an evil twin.

 August 12

I hate everything.

Ford will take my his place here soon enough, does he have to undercut me while I’m still here?

I’m running for mayor now.

 August 13

Kids are helping me with a political campaign. Apparently I know nothing about politics and have unpalatable opinions. Bah.

 August 14

The Stump Speech went great! I relax, words happen, people cheer.

Dipper got a lucky tie for me. Think it really works.

 August 15

Should’ve tried being a politician before. Almost feels like people like me.

 August 16

Nope. Politics is not for me. Too much mind control.

Should’ve known it wasn’t me making those speeches.

(The kids shouldn’t get into politics either. Can’t always be there to save them from murder.)

Turns out I’m not mayor material, but I’m a HERO.

Take that, Ford.

 August 17

Rented an RV and took Soos and the kids and Mabel’s friends on a road trip.

Pranking the tourist traps. Good old Mystery Shack tradition for the last time.

Dipper’s practising flirting like a pro.

 August 18 Sunday

Almost got eaten by a spider-woman. That could have gone better.

Have to admit, the kids are heroes too.

Don’t think Ford noticed we were gone.

 August 19

Opened the Mystery Shack for the final stretch.

Two more weeks, then I’m gone for good.

 August 20

Made a good deal on illegal pugs. Still got it.

Ford and Dipper put some magic mojo on the Shack. Not gonna ask.

Might have something to do with how badly Ford is sleeping.

 August 21

Ten days left until the kids’s birthday and the end of summer.

Guess I’m doing a countdown now.

 August 22

Nine days left.

 August 23

Eight days left.

I’m gonna order a ponytail kit.

 August 24

HELL NO I DON’T NEED THIS.

It’s the literal end of the world and the kids are missing.

Suddenly orange skies, goats turning into monsters, the whole shebang. I thought I had enough troubles.

That magic on the Shack seems to be protecting it, but. THE KIDS ARE MISSING. So is Ford.

 ??? 1

Day and night are replaced by eternal glowing orange and every single clock is busted, so no more dates.

Went out looking for the kids, but all I find is other people. Also demons. No sign of Soos or Wendy, either.

Been taking people to the Shack. Safest place on Earth for all I know. I have enough brown meat and elected myself Chief.

The kids are fine. Probably with Ford. That’s the ticket.

 ??? 2

Went out looking again. Found the Northwest girl dressed in nothing but a potato sack. She was crying and I don’t want to know, but she didn’t deserve it.

Been told the head honcho is the yellow triangle. He calls this Weirdmageddon.

Old McGucket showed up more coherent than usual, herding a whole flock of forest creatures into the Shack. Starting to get crowded here.

The kids are fine. Of course they are.

 ??? 3

There’s still people alive out there. I heard cars over at Gleeful’s place.

Didn’t see anyone else.

I’ve lost  I couldn’t even

Mabel and Dipper are definitely still alive. So is Soos and Wendy. And Ford better be.

 ??? 4

They’re alive!

All four of my kids, bursting through the door like cops doing a raid but they’re alive!

Now all I want is for them to stay here and be safe. Why can’t they see that?

I’m done saving my brother’s skin and getting nothing but scorn for it.

Ford made his own bed with that demon. Forget it.

 ??? 5

Did I mention, the plan concocted by five kids, Soos, and a known madman is utterly insane?

They’re rebuilding the Shack. I just had it repaired, too.

It’s my house, but no one’s listening to me.

 ??? 6

I keep having this bad feeling about Ford.

It’s dumb. My brother has made it perfectly clear how he feels about being saved.

 ??? 7

Well then.

Not letting the kids lead an apocalypse rebellion against a demonic triangle without me.

 August 25 Sunday

 August 26

 August 27

 August 28

Huh. I can’t remember writing this, but it does ring a few bells.

It’s like I

I need to talk to Ford.

 August 29

So. The apocalypse is over, and we’re all fine.

We killed the demon by burning my mind out when he was inside, pretty much.

My mind’s still there, but it’s kinda. Well. In need of repair.

Spent a few days reliving good memories.

Turns out there’s more than a few bad ones, too. But.

Everyone is so good to me

I don’t deserve this

 August 30

I remember how Ford looked at me after I brought him back.

Now he acts like  he likes to   he thinks I’m

Now it’s like he’s my brother again.

He said. “Thank you.”

 August 31

The kids have left. I’ll miss them, but I’ll see them again.

Until then, my brother and I are going sailing.

[stanford-da-dragon]

“Week 3: Forgiveness

Abit late on posting! Been a hectic week. Between working doubles at work and car shopping. Progress on art (And Story) is kinda slow... But I am finally finished with this! 

Week 4 will be late. But I will have it done!

As aslways. Story under Cut~

Coffee a Day keeps Bill away~ Ko-Fi Link Here!

A Better World.

The past 48 hours as been hectic. Coming into another Dimension that is actually an parallel of Earth. One he come to find out and dubbed as “A Better World” Where in this world. His twin took Journal 1 and left with it. He himself wasn’t pushed into the Portal. And here he was seen as an Celebrity Star of Science!

He was excited to see this world. To meet his Parallel Self. But was stopped by an Parallel Version of Fiddleford. His old friend. Taken down by the security guards. Of course his instinct was gonna kick in. He was being captured. Held down. His body told him to fight. And fight he did.

He fought all the way to the glass cells where he was tossed into one of them. Not caring or noticing how the cell next to him was dark. He stood up quickly and banged on the glass growling, snarling to be let out demanding for answers. 

The security guards left to let him fume. Ford growled as he looked around. They stripped him of his cloak. His weapons. He was only left to wear his sweater and pants. Pacing. Ford grumbled as his mind ran wild from him. Again not realizing the cell next to him seemed to be mimicking his pacing. 

The soft “clacking” sound of his boots was his only company. As he paced. He was mostly jealous now. Angry. His thoughts wondered back to home. His home. He growled thinking of his brother. Thinking how if he just listened he could have this all. If only...

Head snapping up. There was an loud “THUD” sound coming from the darken cell next to his. Frowning Ford as stopped and looked to the darken cell. When suddenly another loud “THUD” came. Rattling the whole glass wall. He didn’t see much other then a grey blurred thing hitting the glass and quickly disappeared into the darkness. 

Walking slowly to the other cell. The loud THUDs keep getting louder and hitting harder on the glass. I saw something black pace by this time. As he got closer he peered inside. Only to be greeted with glowing yellow slittled eyes. 

Ford screamed in surprised, “BILL!?”

But no reply came. Only the still quiet of those eyes watching. They floated to the air it seemed. Being about 6 feet above ground. A deep rumbling growl came from the other cell. Ford had backed away from the cell as it started to illuminate itself revealing the creature that lay inside. Glaring at Ford. 

Ford looked to the creature. It’s fur was black. Grey undertones with darker black markings. The once beautiful feathers been clipped away keeping this creature grounded. Two friller like feathers grew out from the clipped wings with a single eye on them. Blood red on these feathers plus on the 3 on his hind legs. Ford gulped as he looked to the once pawerful tail seeing 3 spikes protruding out sharply. Ford winced when seeing the tip of the tail. It was missing quite alot of fur on the tip. Along of being scared up. It seemed this creature had taken up the habit of chewing his tail pulling out the fur. 

Looking back to the face. It was very horse like in shape. Along with the body. If not being only skin and bones. The eyes creep him out though.. Black as darkness. Only letting that of the yellow slitted pupils to pop out more. Maroon colored horns came out of it’s head. Two ears folded back. One ear having an tag with: Experiment 69 on it.. Grey main. A scar over the nose like a ring..

But those eyes... Ford stared at those eyes. They were Bill’s! But this dragon before him was his friend! Despite the huge change. Ford still recognized him. He gulp as fear took hold. He stared at those eyes. Guilt started to build up as nothing registered in those yellow eyes. Only thing he saw in them was Hate. Hatred, Pain, Sorrow... Sadness.. But mostly hate as the Dragon continued to glare at Ford.

“Stanford?”

Flinching the dragon backed up and started head butting the glass. Using everything in his might to break through. Ford watched as the Dragon continued to headbutt the glass wall. Blood started to show from each hit. A black substance starting to form around the floor. Ford cringed at the sight. He winced when the glass cracked. Another hit. More blood. Ford watched in horror as his former friend continued to ram himself into the glass. 

“Stanford stop!!” Ford felt tears prickly at the corner of his eyes. He looked to his friend. The dragon swayed blood and black goop coming from his head eyes and mouth. The dragon huffed as he reared back and slammed into the glass again and again. Cracks growing wider. 

Ford closed his eyes once more. What did his Parallel Self did to this dragon?! Why was he caged up!? Why?! Afterall this dragon done for him. This Ford betrayed his friendship and bond to this Dragon by locking him up!? Ford’s eyes snapped open as glass shards flew by his face. Looking forward and pressing his back against the glass wall behind him. He watched..

The dragon stalked out of the cell. Watching Ford closely. He growled. Stalking his cornered prey. Ford watched on in horror. He didn’t have his weapons.. BUt he didn’t want to hurt his friend.. Even if this is just a Parallel version. The dragon lunged and everything went dark....

A gasp! Shooting up out of bed a cry escaped his throat as he sat up panting sweat glistened on his forehead. His glasses askew on his face. He huffed trying to calm himself his heart racing as his hand rested on his chest. But not where his heart is. Clenching at the red sweater tightly at his shoulder. Abit of skin was shown and under that cloth of his clothing bared to the world to see was a 6 long gashes going from his shoulder down to his chest. 

Ford gasping still looked around alert. Seeing that he is back in his own room. And not a cell eased his mind alittle. Sighing finally calmed down. He looked over seeing the time.. 4:40...

Welp... He’s gonna be awake now.. Sighing Ford got up putting on his boot and looked around.. Fixing his sweater he got up rubbing his head as he left. He thought back to his nightmare and frowned. He made his way to the kitchen and brewed him some coffee. As he leaned against the counter waiting. 

His thoughts ran wild from him. He couldn’t chase the image of his friend as an Abyssal Dragon. A Dutch Angel Dragon tainted and touched by pure darkness. Caused by Despair, Pain, Sorrow, any negative emotion and energy. He crossed his arms frowning. His shoulder ached. The wound as far healed into a scar. But a reminder nonetheless as what could’ve been. 

Thinking then. He was jealous and angry at his twin. But now... He’s glad for it. Cause if that’s how that world turned out.. How would he... No.. Shaking his head. Ford chased those thoughts away. Stanford was his friend. They’re bonded. He would never do that to him.. Or so he thought. Growling. Ford stood as his coffee finished brewing. He made his cup and made himself outside to clear his mind. He don’t need these thoughts. Don’t need to be thinking them.

Getting outside. Ford sat on the couch where he sipped at his coffee.. Staring at the liquid. Once again. His mind ran wild without him. He sat there remembering the times Stanford had saved him. And where he in return had saved him. The dragon was always there for him when he needed him. And he was there for the dragon as well. Wasn’t he?

Thinking back Ford frowned and an old memory played in his head. At that time. Stanford saved him from getting lost in the woods. But instead of thanking him... He treated him as apart of his research.. When the bunker was made.. He even had the dragon down with some tests and had for a short time deemed him as an experiment. But quickly erased that title as Stanford gave a warning growl.. And the time when Ford himself turned his back on Stanford in his paranoia state of mind...

Ford frown deepened at the memories. Maybe he was destined to betray his friend’s Trust?  

Ford looked down to the hot beverage in his hands of which was shaking at the realization of his thoughts.

Stanford may have bonded with Stanley first. But Stan had insisted that the Dragon protect Ford. Stanford still watched over Stan during the 30 years... But also came in search for him.

Ford closed his eyes. Stanford still came for him. Even after turning his back on him.. Still trusted him. Still loved him.  Another Realization hit  him. Stanley.. Ford blinked, he done the same to Stan  and when he needed him most. He came for him. Sighing. Maybe he was too harsh with Stan. He should try and talk to him.

Ford took another sip of his drink and then leaned back on the couch. As he did.. Another memory hit him.

Memory.

In the mindscape Ford ran up on the path of books and journals to reach the high pitch of laughter. As he got to the top he glared out to the yellow triangle in front of him.

"BILL! You lied to me?! Where does that portal really lead too!?"

The yellow Triangle, Bill turned to him and laughed, “Oh oh! Looks like Mr. Brainiac finally got smart! Let’s just say when that Portal finishes charging up. Your dimension gonna learn how to Party! Right guys!” 

Laughter and giggling was heard from the rip rift Bill had to his friends. Bill turned to him with glee. 

“NO! I’ll stop you! I’LL SHUT IT DOWN!!” Ford yelled.

Bill just glared at him, “A deal is a deal Sixer! You can’t stop the bridge between our worlds. But it’ll be fun to watch you try! Cute even!”

Ford growled, “I won’t let you Bill..” 

“Oh? But what if I already did? After all your little Dragon friend seemed to never told you of his ability~” 

“Dragon..? Stanford?” Ford looked to Bill shocked eyes wide. He couldn’t mean that Stanford has been working along with Bill this whole entire time? “No! You’re lying!”  “Am I? Have you ever wondered where he disappears to? Besides the realms he reigns in? That bright light you sometimes see.. Think about it Fordsy! Your ANGEL Dragon already done what you cannot!” Bill laughed.

Ford frown. Being betrayed by Bill was one thing.. But by his companion? He felt hurt. More then ever. Ford took a step back. “No... I won’t believe you Bill!”

“Try as you might Sixer. But Stanford is a Dimension Hopper. Not only that. Well... I’ll show ya!” Bill clapped his hands as Ford’s surroundings changed. Gravity Falls was in utter chaos. But in the middle was Stanford! Or... So he thought.. The dragon had the same shape and look to Stanford. Same markings. Only.. This Stanford was Greys and Blacks three spikes on his tail torn tattered wings two frillers with an uncanny eye on them. But his eyes... Were not emerald green... But a sickess yellow with slits in them.

The dragon turned to Ford and hissed at him before the Abyss Realm swallowed him up. Black tendrils spreading about the land...

Ford blinked his eyes. It was at that moment in the memory where he had woken up from the nightmare.. And then proceeded to lose his sanity and trust in the dragon. He remembered when he saw Stanford again. He appeared papping him like always. But it had spooked him to the point that he turned and shot his crossbow at the dragon. 

Hearing the yowl of pain still haunts him as well. But the look will never leave... Ford was half gone screaming at the Dragon. Calling him Bill and to leave! Turning his back on the dragon that day. Little did he know. The Dragon disappeared for 6 months after that. Never to be seen again... Unknowingly that Stanford had Dimension Hopped and was fighting Bill for those 6 months..

Looking to the tree line staring blankly at the deep dark woods. Stanford has been gone for a few days... Where could he have be- “CHIRP!” 

“Argh!” Jumping up dropping his coffee Ford reached for his blaster as he stood alert and turned towards the sound. He was greeted with worried emerald green eyes that belonged to Stanford.. Ford eased seeing that it was his dragon friend. But guilt kicked in.. He almost done it again. 

Stanford.. Sensing his friends stress climbed on the porch making it creak loudly. Ford looked to him and smiled slightly at the Dragon. He stepped off the porch and Stanford followed him. Head butting his shoulder. Ford chuckled and patted his neck. He smiled as the dragon chirped again. But as quickly the smile came it went. Frowning. 

Ford stopped and turned to Stanford. Who looked to him confused. Ford looked to the dragon. At his missing ear. All the scars. And the brand that Bill had left on him. Frowning remembering the times that Ford wasn’t a friend towards Stanford when he was. Ford looked down and moved forward suddenly hugging the Dragon’s neck. 

“Stanford... Buddy.. I’m so sorry..! I just realized... I wasn’t a good friend.. Or the best caretaker. You’e done alot for me. You protected me.. More then once! You were always there when I need a ear to vent to. A shoulder to lean on. And not once have I returned the favor!” Ford buried his face into the dragon’s fur. “I promise.. I’ll make it up to you.. I’ll be better... I’ll...” 

Confused by the notion of his friend. Stanford sat there confused ears lowering hearing his friend whispering “Sorry” against him. Frowning.. The dragon rested his head on top of Ford’s and placed his paw on his friend’s back as he hugged Ford back. 

Ford hiccuped and chuckled, “I guess this means you Forgive me? 

A chirp. 

“Thank you buddy..”

[ddp456]

“It’s quite simple, really...”

So, Wendip fans - I have good news and bad news.

Bad news first - My Wendip surprise has hit a snag.  (yes, again this year, too!)

I’ll give you all an update ASAP.  In the meanwhile, I whipped up this little yarn to serve as an appetizer until then.  Same deal goes as the last fic - if someone cares enough to make a cover art for this, I’ll throw it up on Fanfction.net as well.

Enjoy!

“This isn’t going to hurt, is it?”

Wendy Corduroy squirmed in the rigid seat.  The oddly-shaped helmet strapped to her head matted her poofy auburn hair against her brow, leaving it covered with beads of sweat.   Her eyes raced around the secret laboratory beneath the Mystery Shack as dials clicked and spun, machinery hummed in different decibels, and vials of unknown liquids slowly boiled and bubbled beneath their heated test tubes.

Huge libraries of hardcover research books decorated the walls next to the exit.  A spiraling stairwell led to another floor of boring-looking tomes. A number of end-tables and shelves displayed a lifetime’s worth of knick-knacks and souvenirs from untold adventures.  An old, chipped worktable sat at the middle of the room, filled to the brim with clutter and unfiled paperwork.

“Absolutely not!” Stanford Pines double-checked the computer monitor across from her.  He tapped away at the keyboard, inputting new commands at lightning speed.  “In fact, it might just do the opposite.”

Wendy winced confusingly, “T-Tickle?”  Her hands tightly gripped the sides of her chair.

Ford shook his head, “No, not that either.”  His harden eyes moved upwards.  “But don’t worry – we won’t be going anywhere near your feet, I assure you.”

Wendy’s freckled face turned white.  “Huh?! How did you know I was thinking – “

The scientist chuckled. “To be honest, you told me.”  He pointed to the giant video screen mounted behind Wendy.  “Part of the procedure is that your thoughts will be shown on this display.  The smaller televisions above it can provide collaborating videos and audio as well.”

Wendy turned around to see a series of green, flowing texts flying across the largest screen:

“HOW DID HE KNOW THAT? ISN’T THIS LIKE AN INVASION OF PRIVACY? HEY, AT LEAST I DON’T HAVE TO WORK NOW!”

The sound of laughter made Wendy switch screens.  One of the smaller ones played a somewhat faint image of Dipper and her wrestling around on her bed.  Wendy had her arm wrapped around his head as she gave him the ultimate noogie.  On the other end, Dipper had an orange-and-yellow socked foot in a death grip as he mercilessly tortured its sensitive underside.

“Say it!  Say that you give up!”

“NEHEHEHEH! Never!  You – You first!”

Wendy smiled briefly at the memory before turning back around towards Ford.  He silently watched the scene, itching his beard stubble with curiosity.  “Hmm…”

She forced an uneasy laugh out of embarrassment.  Ford’s silence only added to Wendy’s nervousness.  Her fingertips tapped the armrests of the chair as the helmet seemed tightened around her head.

“This is so freaky!  Why I’d even agree to this in the first place?”  

It had only been less than a half-hour ago that the teen had been sitting at her post at the Mystery Shack’s Gift Shop.  Wendy sat back on her stool, her shoulder-blades resting against the cracked wall as her mud-covered boots rested on the countertop.  Her nose buried in the latest gossip magazine. The world was peaceful and quiet until…

“A-hem!”

“Whoa!”  Wendy was jolted out of her zen.  Her balance lost, her arms flailed in mid-air until she slipped from her seat and landed hard to the floor.

“OW!”  She rubbed her sore backside as a hand reached out to help.

“Thanks, Dip.”  Wendy accepted the help back to her feet.  “You really scared the living – “

Her words faded as she was pulled upwards to meet Ford’s stern, broaden face.  He adjusted his cracked glasses with his six-fingered hand as he cleared his throat once more.

“Sorry about that.” Ford apologized.  “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind assisting me with an experiment.”

“Oh, okay…”  Wendy placed her fallen trapped cap back on her head.   This had been the first time the long-lost Great-Uncle of the Pines twins had addressed her.   “What’s up?”

“Not here…”  To Wendy’s surprise, Ford walked towards the vending machine across from her desk and dialed a combination of random numbers. A second later, the ground shook beneath her feet.  The machine itself slid away from the wall, revealing a hidden staircase leading deep into the earth.

“WHOA!”  Wendy’s green eyes grew wide.  She had heard Dipper mention something about secrets literally built into the Mystery Shack itself, but she never expected anything like this.

Ford walked down the steps as a series of lights hanging overhead instantly sprang to life.  “Now, if you’ll follow me, we’ll be at my lab – “ He paused, noticing there wasn’t a second set of footsteps behind him.  The elder spun around to see Wendy standing at the entryway with an unnerved expression.

“On second thought,” Wendy pointed towards the family entrance to the parlor.  “Stan – I mean, the other Stan, will probably need me to stay here at the counter…”

“Oh, please!”  Ford waved away in disgust.  “Stanley’s been asleep in his recliner for hours!  He didn’t care enough to put on pants today, yet alone properly manage a business!”

Wendy giggled and covered her mouth.

“I know things look odd and even scary. “  Ford held a hand against his heart.  “But it is dire that you come with me.  Your life, as well as that of your family and friends, may depend on it.”

Wendy’s guard dropped as the old man’s façade fell.  His frown twisted into an all-too-familiar tiny beam.  “Please…?”

“So, that’s where Dipper gets his smile from…”

Before she knew it, Wendy followed along the coat tails of the sage explorer down the staircase and onto an old-fashioned service elevator.  Ford threw a nearby switch, closing a gate shut behind Wendy, making her flinch slightly.  There was no going back now.

The elevator slowly descended down the shaft, its wheels noisily squeaking the entire way.   The landing violently shook beneath their boots.  An awkward silence filled the narrow passage.  

“So…”  Wendy broke the silence as Ford stared into the distance, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.  “I never would have guessed that something like this was hidden beneath the Shack.”

Ford nodded, “It’s actually ironic – your father was the one who designed and built this very cottage.”

“Get out!”

“I will – “  He paused and let out a nervous laugh, “I see.  You were using an euphemism.  My mistake.  But it’s true.  Dan Corduroy helped create what you now know as the Mystery Shack over 30 years ago.”

“Wow…”  Wendy absorbed her surroundings outside of the caged elevator. She looked on with a sense of pride, knowing that her family had lent a hand in creating such an extraordinary marvel. The redhead turned towards Ford. “Dad doesn’t about any of this junk, does he?”

He broke eye-contact. “Not...exactly.  Let me put it like this: your old man thought I was putting in one hell of a den.”

“HA!  Sounds about right!”

The elevator eased to a gentle stop.  They were now in front of a sturdy redwood door.  Golden marking wrapped around at the top and the bottom in half-circles as a jewel-encrusted keyhole lied in the center.

Ford reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a long, aged key.  He inserted it into the opening and rotated it tightly.  The door sprang open with a slow creak.  He opened an arm towards the new room shrouded in complete darkness.

“After you…”

Wendy’s body grew sore in thanks to the awkward chair given to her.  Proper posture wasn’t exactly her thing.  She couldn’t decide if it was the seat or the uncomfortable atmosphere that added to her anxiety.

“I know this guy is Dip’s uncle and all, but why do I feel like it’s one of my old B-movies, where he’s going to hit a button, and shackles are going to pop outta this thing and grab my wrists and ankles?”

“I wouldn’t be too worried.” Ford reassured the worried girl with a sly grin.  “I’m more of an “angry scientist” than I am a “mad” one, so I’m not exactly one to have deathtraps lying about the lab.”

“Huh?”  Once more, Wendy glanced over her shoulder, finding her fears displayed for the world to see.  She groaned aloud and pinched her nose in embarrassment.  “Oh, man…”

“Secondly,”  Ford walked to his desk and took hold of the roller chair placed there.  “Unlike my brother, I do recognize the fact that child endangerment and imprisonment is a serious crime in the state of Oregon.”

Wendy bit her lip to stop chortling.  Seeing her growing calm, Ford rolled the chair in front of her and took a seat. “And lastly, if anything, I asked you here for your own protection, Gwendolyn.”

“It’s “Wendy…” if you don’t mind, Mr. Pines.”

Ford glanced up at the large television for a split second.

“I HATE THAT NAME SO MUCH! WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS, MY MOTHER? I WISH I HAD A COOL NICKNAME LIKE DIPPER DOES.”

“My mistake, “Wendy.” Ford rubbed his chin with curiosity. “And I’d prefer “Ford” as well.”

“It’s a deal, Ford.” Her smile faded as she rubbed her hands together.  “Um, going back to what you said earlier.  This machine is supposed to “protect me?” She gently tugged on the black cord stemming from the helmet that led back to the series of screens. “And from what exactly?”

“Let me explain.”  The man sat back on his padded chair, much to Wendy’s chagrin.  “The machine that you are attached to is my own creation: Project Mentem mk-2.”

“That’s a mouthful!”

“You’re telling me. As that machine scans your mind, it will also shield it from being controlled by outside forces.”

“Outside forces?”

Ford leaned forward, “Have you ever heard the name “Bill Cipher?””

Wendy hesitated.  “Uh, I…think so…”

Once more, Wendy’s thoughts betrayed her as they ran across the computer screen for all to see.

“THAT’S THAT TRIANGLE GUY, RIGHT?  I THINK IT’S THAT TRIANGLE GUY.  HE’S THE ONE THAT MADE DIPPER ACT ALL FREAKY A FEW WEEKS AGO.  I KNEW SOMETHING WAS UP WHEN HE THREW HIS ARM AROUND ME AND CALLED ME “TOOTS.”  AND HE WOULDN’T STOP STARING AT MY CHEST.  EW!”

Ford placed his hands on the armrests of Wendy’s chair, missing her fingertips by inches.  His tone grew utterly grim.  “Bill Cipher is an interdimensional being, made of pure negative energy.  He lives for complete and utter chaos!  And he will not stop until he unleashes such horrors onto this very world!”

Wendy gulped, as another thought was splashed across the screen:

“I SAW THAT DRAWING IN DIPPER’S BOOK.  THAT CREEP DIDN’T LOOK SO TOUGH TO ME.  HE LOOKS LIKE SOME DEMENTED FLYING CORN CHIP.  I BET I COULD TAKE HIM ANYTIME!”

Enraged, Ford rose to his feet, forcing his chair back.  “THIS ISN’T SOME KINDA JOKE, KID!”  He marched back and forth across his lab as Wendy was helpless to do anything but watch. “Do you even know what you’re dealing with?”  He continued on lecturing.  “This thing destroyed his own universe without an ounce of regret!  He hunted me endlessly across countless dimensions and realities for the last 30 years!  He’s responsible for the demise of several civilizations, and you think you stand a chance against him?!  He’d destroy you in a blink of his eye!”

“I’m – I’m sorry, okay?” Wendy shut her eyes and turned her head. “I-I didn’t mean – “

Ford lowered his guard as his sights came across the master computer.  His heart sunk into his knees as he quietly read the thoughts displayed:

“I HATE IT WHEN BOYS FIGHT. I HATE IT WHEN BOYS YELL AT ME. IT’S LIKE HOW STAN AND MY DAD ALWAYS YELL AT ME.  I REALLY WISH HE’D STOP YELLING AT ME…”

He looked ahead to the teenaged girl shivering in her seat.  Ford opened his six-fingered hands, wondering if he was any better than the monster he was trying to defeat.

“Wendy…”  The scientist reclaimed his seat, but made sure to keep his distance.  “I…I apologize for my outburst.  But you have to understand, please; any matter that involves Bill in even the slightest capacity has to be taken seriously.”  He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper colored hair.   “In the last few decades, I have born witness to the outrageous atrocities that he has committed across time and space.  It is something that no one deserves to see.  It is something no one deserves to fall victim to.  For that, I implore you again:  will you continue to help me keep not just this world safe from Bill’s influence, but my family as well?”

“It’s – It’s okay, man.” Wendy agreed with a shake of her head. “I’m still game if you are.  So, what’s the plan?  How can I help?”

As both persons calmed, Ford sunk back into his seat comfortably.  “You already have.”  He highlighted another computer monitor.  “As the Mentem mk-2 scans your thoughts, it has been applying a shield to your brainwaves. See for yourself.”

Wendy spun to her right, finding a black screen with bright, dark-green text displaying a progress bar:

SCANNING THOUGHTS – 35%

“Within a few minutes,” Ford clarified.  “The process will have scanned the entirety of your mind, protecting it from any possible threat from Bill.”

“Oh…okay, then…”

The two sat and peeked around the room without saying another word.  The only sound to be heard was the occasional blip coming from the progress bar.

“Hey, Ford?  Can I ask you a stupid question?”

“There are no stupid questions, but yes, proceed anyways.”

“Alright.”  Wendy itched the back of her slender neck.  “Why me? Why do you think this Bill guy would try to possess my mind like he did to Dipper?”

Strangely enough, Ford’s face lit up with interest.  “It’s quite simple, really.  I believe you would be the perfect selection for Bill simply because of who you are.”

“Who I am?”  A dozen new thoughts raced through Wendy’s mind.

“WHAT DOES HE MEAN BY THAT? IS IT BECAUSE I GREW UP HERE IN GRAVITY FALLS?  OR BECAUSE I WORK AT THE MYSTERY SHACK?”

“My mistake.  I shouldn’t have been so coy.”  Ford stood back up and began to pace with his arms tucked behind his back.  Another “Pines family” trait that easily reminded Wendy of “her boy.”  The adventurer paused for a moment, “It…wouldn’t be too forward to say that you and my great-nephew have grown close this summer, would it?”

Wendy found herself stunned for a split second.

“CLOSE?  OF COURSE WE ARE.    HE’S MY BOY.  THIS SUMMER WOULD HAVE TOTALLY BITE WITHOUT THAT LITTLE GUY.  AFTER EVERYTHING THAT WE’VE BEEN THROUGH, HOW COULD WE NOT?”

“Eh.  You could say that…”

“I see…”  Ford nodded along with both forms of testimony.  “But the question is how close are you two?”

The lower-right screen displaying Wendy’s heart-rate instantly spiked.

“Only a fool wouldn’t be able to see that you share a sort of…”  Ford waved his hand around in a circle as he attempted to find the correct term.  “…a special bond.  In fact, when Dipper sat in that very spot, you were a constant topic in his thoughts.

“Time out!”  Wendy tried to switch the conversation around. “Dipper had this mind-mumbo-jumbo done to him, too?”

“Not exactly.”  Ford confessed.  “There was an…incident when we attempted to use the machine on him.  It was only recently during some spare time that I was able to repair Project Mentem.   Hence, the mk-2 at the end.

“SO I’M THE GUINEA PIG TO SEE IF THIS HUNK OF JUNK WORKS?  GREAT, JUST GREAT.  MAYBE IF MY BROTHERS DIDN’T MESS AROUND WITH THAT UNICORN HAIR DIPPER GAVE ME, I WOULDN’T HAVE TO SIT THROUGH THIS.  I REALLY HOPE THIS DOESN’T BACKFIRE AND LEAVE ME WITH MY MIND WIPED LIKE WHAT THOSE BLIND-EYE JERKS TRIED TO DO TO US.”

Wendy gasped.  She forced a cheesy grin and pointed at the big screen behind her.  “Say, do we really need to have that thing on the entire time?”  The lumberjane gently tugged at the wiring binding her to the circuity.  “There isn’t a sleep mode or something we can switch on?”

Ford waved away her concerns.  “It is more than all right, Wendy.  I already know about the adventures you and Dipper have gone on these last few months.”

“You…do?”  A sense of unease formed in the pit of Wendy’s stomach as her fears turned to anger.

“THAT LITTLE DORK!  HE RATTED US OUT!  ZIPPED LIPS, MY BUTT!  JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON HIM!  WHAT ELSE DID HE SAY?  WAIT. THE MACHINE.  WHAT IF THIS THING MADE HIM SQUEAL?”

Ford could see a new memory forming on the secondary monitor.  Wendy and Dipper were standing with Mabel on the top of the Mystery Shack’s roof as the sun shined high in the clear blue sky.  Meeting eye-to-eye, they each made a zipping motion over their lips simultaneously.

“Zipped lips, eh?” Ford noted.  “But nevertheless, I can assure you, Dipper didn’t betray your trust in any fashion.”

“He didn’t?”

“Of course not.”  The researcher went back to his desk and took an item with him before sitting down before Wendy.  “In fact, I learned about your journeys the same way he did about mine here in Gravity Falls: though documentation.

Wendy looked to see the all-too-familiar hardcover book marked with a golden six-fingered insignia lying in Ford’s lap.

“Hey!  That’s Dipper’s journal!”

“You mean my journal.”  Ford proudly patted the front cover.  “It makes this old man proud to see Dipper continuing in my researching the wonderful oddities inhabiting this town.”  He opened the Journal 3 and scanned somewhere towards the middle portion.  “You certainly had your hands full in the last few weeks, if I can say so.  It’s all right here:  ghosts in the convenience store, clones amongst party-goers here at the Shack, time-traveling shenanigans …”

“Uh…”  Wendy held up a finger to object.  “Kinda lost on those last two, Ford.”

“In that case,” Ford closed the journal.  “What about the fact that when I went to check on my abandoned bunker in the woods, every trap I had set had been disabled and I found the captive alien shapeshifter frozen in an effigy that looked exactly like Dipper?”

“Uh…”

“Plus,” he reached into his oversized slicker and pulled out a dainty-sized lumberjack’s belt and a sheath for a hatchet.  “I found these inside the bunker.  I believe they’re yours?”

An uncomfortable laugh sailed pass Wendy’s throat.  “You’re pretty mad about that, aren’t you?”

“Maybe at first, but after things came together, I was more amazed.  Especially by what was captured on film.”

“We were taped?!”

“Wendy,” Ford said.  “One does not hide thousands of dollars of equipment as well as one-of-a-kind alien technologies deep in the Oregonian woods without having some type of surveillance equipment at the ready.”

She shrugged.  “True that.”

“And don’t get me wrong; all of you kids worked wonderfully as a group to recapture the shapeshifter, but it was the brief period in which you two were separated from Mabel and Soos that stood out.  I could easily see marvelous examples of teamwork being displayed.  I think it can go without saying how well you complement each other.”

“Thanks, I guess…” Wendy went to scratch her head, finding it blocked by the massive helmet.  “Sorry if I seem rude, but what’s with all these questions about Dipper and me?”

“To be frank,” he explained. “I’m simply trying to fill in the blanks to a lot of uncertainties that I have.”

“Such as?”

“Perhaps, it would be best if I were more forward.”  Ford lowered his crossed leg and hunched forward.  “So, I’ll come out and ask:  what are your intentions towards my great-nephew?

Wendy’s brow rose, pinching the tip of her head enclosed by the helmet.  Her heart-rate monitor went into full-blown overtime.

“OH MAN! OH MAN! OH MAN! THIS IS LIKE HOW MY DAD GRILLS ANY BOY I BRING TO THE HOUSE.  THIS IS KARMA PAYING ME BACK, RIGHT?!  WHAT SHOULD I SAY? HOW – “

Unfortunately, the middle monitor provided the answer for her, as Wendy could hear her own voice playing through the speakers:

“But, I'm too old for you. I mean, you know that, right?”

Both watched the scene played out, as Wendy and Dipper sat on a log deep into the Gravity Falls Woods just outside of Ford’s hidden bunker, as she tried her best to calm his anxiety and over wrecked nerves.

Wendy lowered her head to see Ford still studying the screen with great interest.  His face reminded her of Dipper’s as she had left him wondering on that log as she rode away on her bike.  Wendy would give anything to be free of the embarrassing and awkward situation.

“Ford…”  The teenager struggled with her words.  “It’s not – I can explain…”

Her random thoughts spread across the main television at neck-break speeds.

“I WISH THINGS WEREN’T COMPLICATED.  IT’S NOT LIKE DIP’S A BAD GUY.  I HOPE HE UNDERSTANDS.  I HOPE I DIDN’T HURT HIM.  HE SEEMED FINE AT MOVIE NIGHT.  WHAT ELSE COULD I DO?  THERE’S NO WAY IT WOULD HAVE WORKED.  MAYBE WHEN HE GETS OLDER…”

At long last, Ford finally spoke, “Well, that explains a lot.  It’s not as serious as I thought.”

“Ford, you don’t understand – “

He looked straight at her and removed his glasses, wiping them off with his sleeve. “Let me tell you something,” Ford said without an ounce of emotion in his voice.  “The more the things change – the more they stay the same.  In Dipper’s case, it’s “you’re too young.”  For me, an entire lifetime ago, it was “Sorry, Ford.  But you have six fingers on each hand.  What would people think?”  He held up one of his unique hands for Wendy to see.  “So, believe me, Wendy, when I say I understand perfectly.”

Wendy remained completely silent as a single thought forced on the screen behind her:

“DOES DIPPER THINK THE SAME WAY, TOO?”

The strict professor put his damaged spectacles back on.  “But in all honesty, I am actually relieved by this revelation.”

Wendy shook her head in astonishment, “Wait?!  You are?!”

“Of course.”  Ford stood up, holding the Journal 3 in his right hand, and placed it back into a slot in his work desk.  “After all, you are only a child yourself.  I’d be shocked if things had played out any differently.”

The demeaning comment struck Wendy unexpectedly.   It had been a long time since anyone had referred to her in such a way.

“Oh…kay, then.  But I still don’t understand.  What does all this Dipper-talk have to do with me and that triangle guy?”

“That’s precisely the point.”  Ford walked back.  “It’s all related.  Other than myself, there isn't anyone else that Bill Cipher had more interactions than with Dipper.  Like me, Bill has invaded Dipper’s dreams on occasion, and went as far as to trick him into giving him control of his body.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that maybe with the exception of Mabel, there is no one closer to that boy than you, Wendy.  Over the last few weeks, Dipper has become more involved in my experiments and my research.  It’s to the point he’s serving as a pseudo-apprentice of sorts.  He now has knowledge that would allow Bill to conquer this world with ease.”

“Jeez…”

“…is quite the understatement.  For this, I believe that if Bill couldn’t possess Dipper, he wouldn’t hesitate to use those closest to him as a bargaining chip.  For some reason, he doesn’t bother Mabel.  Maybe her dreams are so chaotic, they frightened even him. That leads me to believe that…”

“…he’d come for me instead.” Wendy finished.  “So, when you said earlier that this mind-thingie is for my protection, it’s really more for Dipper’s.  You think I’m some kind of…”

“…liability.  It might seem harsh, but after everything I’ve seen in the footage from the bunker, I couldn’t be more certain.  You both would stand in the face of danger for the other’s welfare.  I truly think that if your life was in jeopardy, Dipper would be willing to sacrifice the entire universe to save you.  And with all due respect, that scenario cannot be allowed to happen.”

Wendy didn’t know what to say.  How could she feel so important and yet, so very small at the same time? As she thought about it a bit more, the redhead came to a new realization.

“Dipper – he doesn’t know I’m here, does he?”

Ford didn’t answer her question.  His eyes rose over her head.  “And we’re…just about…”

*DING!*

A bell sounded through the laboratory.  The helmet finally released its death grip on her temples, as a drained Wendy nearly slid off her seat.

“Finished!”  Ford rose to his feet and went to help Wendy up onto hers.  He proudly patted her back, nearly knocking her off-balance.  “How are you feeling?”

Wendy tried to find her center as she replaced her trapper hat on top her crown of copper hair.  She grabbed her forehead.  “My brain is throbbing.”

“All perfectly normal,” he declared.  “Now, you want to be wary of any other side effects.”

“Other side effects?”

“Yes.  This is my new prototype, after all.  There wasn’t time to work out all of the kinks.”  Ford began to count off on his fingers.  “So, if you experience leaky eyes, bloody nose, oozing out of certain orifices, and/or itchy palms or soles, don’t hesitate to let me know immediately.”

“T-Thanks.  Appreciate it…”  Wendy was thankful her mind wasn’t being monitored any longer.

“Only the best for the liability.  Isn’t that right, old man?”

As Wendy staggered towards the exit, Ford returned his chair to his desk and took a seat.  He started to scribble all sorts of follow-ups into his notebooks.  “I’m going to record my latest findings, so I’m afraid I’ll be a while.”  He pointed towards the door, “If you want to go on ahead, simply throw the switch to bring the elevator back to the surface.  You’ll find a button at the end of the path that’ll re-open the vending machine leading back to your work station.”

“You got it, Ford.  I guess…I’ll see you around.”

Just as Wendy started to turn the door knob, she heard Ford call out, “Wendy, wait?”

She paused and looked back to see Ford with his chair spun towards her.

“For what it’s worth,” he anxiously adjusted his collar.  “I wanted to thank you for everything that you do for Dipper.  I, above all people, can understand how lonely and awkward things can be at his age.  I’m glad that he has someone like you to help him along.”

Wendy let out a sigh of relief.  “It’s no biggie, really.  Like I said before, he’s fun to hang with, and – “

Ford continued on, as if he didn’t hear Wendy at all, “With that said, I figure that it’s only a matter of time before things return to normal, and your life will go back to how it used to be.”

She raised an eyebrow, “I’m not following you here…”

The senior went back to writing in his research, “It’s more than obvious that Dipper is extremely interested in following in my footsteps, and to be honest, I’d be more than honored to train him to do as such.  However, if there’s one thing I’ve learned through the years, is that in this line of work, relationships, rather they be emotional or physical, romantic or platonic, are fleeting.  In the end, they serve to be nothing more than a distraction from what’s really important in life.”

“What – What are you saying?”

“That in time, I’m more than positive that Dipper will grow out of this little fascination he has with you and focus on something that actually has substance in reality.”

“You think Dipper will just forget about me?”

“Or you about him. Whichever comes first.”

Wendy was left dumbstruck. Her stomach felt twisted by the man’s lack of empathy on all fronts.  However, she couldn’t leave on this note.  There was still one worry weighing down on her mind.

“Listen, Ford.”  The ginger rubbed her elbow fretfully. “Before I go, I wanted to ask you one last thing.  Let’s say that this little experiment didn’t work, and this Bill guy does find a way to take control over me.  What would you do then?”

Ford stopped writing in his notepad, but didn’t show Wendy a speck of his attention.  Another eerie silence filled the lab.  Mere seconds passed like hours before he finally gave an answer:

“We’ll…worry about that if and then the time comes.”  He returned to his studies as if nothing had transpired.  “Please make sure to close the door behind you.”

It took nearly all of Wendy’s remaining strength to respond.  “Yeah, I’ll do that…”

As Wendy slowly shut the door, she took one last look at the seemingly-disconnected old man focusing solely on the isolated world that he created for himself.  As much as she hated to admit it, this also reminded her of “her boy” as well.

The exhausted clerk pulled the switch back, making the elevator creep back up the way it had come. She leaned against the gated wall with folded arms as her mind raced over the recent experience, and all that came from it.  A glimpse of natural light offered little comfort from the gloominess of her current surroundings.

One thing was for certain: When Wendy reached the surface, she was definitely going to have to stare at a wall for a while, and rethink everything…

[a-mad-scientist-approaches]

Multiverse is a Curse Word (2)

Again, no idea how to describe this AU, other than as some sort of Frankenstein-y mash of @the-subpar-ghost‘s Adrift AU, and @hntrgurl13‘s Dimension Jumper AU and Drifting Dimensions AU. Adeline Marks is also the latter’s lovely OC. Although the Addiford ship has not yet sailed, I’m still going to credit it to @scipunk63. 

@deadpool-demon-diva and @thejesterlyfictionista I refuse to NOT inform you when I post an update. 

AO3  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11

Chapter 2: Hand Signals to Befuddle Your Enemies

The scenery whipped past silently, and sunlight streamed through the transparent walls of what Mabel had dubbed The Trainbulance. It had docked over the market place shortly after Ford had passed out. Apparently, fights were fairly common in that place, and medical help was permanently stationed nearby to pick up the pieces.

Her uncle jolted awake right next to her, shooting from horizontal to sitting upright almost instantly. His right hand automatically reached for the gun that Mabel had, with wise forethought, temporarily removed from its holster.

“Whoa! Grunkle Ford! It’s okay!”

Eyes wide and breathing hard through his nose, Ford focused on her after a moment of taking in his surroundings.

“Are you alright?”

“Me?” Mabel laughed worriedly. “What about you?”

“I’m-” Ford looked down at the recovery bed he was lying in, and then at his newly re-located shoulder. “Fine, actually.” He sounded surprised. “Where are we?”

Grinning so wide she thought every one of her braces must be showing, Mabel joyously exclaimed, “The Trainbulance! It can fly! And we don’t even have to pay for it or anything, Addi’s settled it all with the driver. I think she’s magic,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Addi?” Ford inquired.

“Right here.” Adeline said, stepping into the compartment. “Adeline Marks, your saving grace.” She introduced herself with a playful smile.

⃝

Adeline wore tattered clothes in brown and grey, and her wrists and hands were wrapped like a boxer’s. Ford knew immediately that he should not get on the wrong side of the sword strapped to her back; he had seen how fast it could be drawn. Her choppy blonde hair had a few grey streaks, and her right cheekbone wielded a couple of horizontal scars. Ford estimated that she was perhaps a few years younger than himself and had seen at least as much action, if not more, judging by the confident way she held herself – like she knew she was more than a match for anyone she crossed.

“I think she can hypnotise people with sign language, too,” Mabel supplied. Ford was suddenly aware that he had done nothing but stare at Adeline since she had walked into the room, and cleared his throat.

“Thank you for your help,” he said sincerely.

“Anytime,” she replied easily, “but Mabel’s the real hero here. She came and got me.” Adeline directed another warm smile towards his niece.

Mabel hesitated. Frowning slightly, she eventually took a breath and said to Ford again, “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have cheated.”

Ford swung his legs off the recovery bed and took her hands, making sure to look into her eyes. “Don’t blame yourself.” He said firmly. “Nobody’s hurt, that’s the important thing-”

“But you were hurt-”

“And you saved me,”

Mabel sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder, still upset.

“Mabel, you and Stanford did not deserve to be attacked over a dice game, regardless of whether you cheated. If anyone’s to blame, it’s that jerk of a gambler. I mean, who goes after a kid like that?” Adeline put in. “Next time, only cheat if the other guy isn’t going to notice.” She winked.

Mabel nodded slowly, mollified.

“Where are heading?” Ford wondered.

“This, um, trainbulance is going to drop us off at a place I know, run by some … colleagues, I guess, of mine. At the very least it’s a place to shelter for the night.” Adeline prompted, seeing his obvious reluctance.

“Adeline, it’s not that I don’t appreciate all that you’ve done,” he began, “I would just prefer not to take any more risks than absolutely necessary.”

“It wouldn’t be a risk.” Adeline said quickly and eagerly. “I mean, not by our standards, right?”

Ford ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Mabel, who erupted into a coughing fit.

“I’m good,” she choked out. He really hoped she had not caught something from that alley. He should have tried harder to find a more sanitary, not to mention safer, sleeping place. It was hard to remember how much more careful he had to be now, especially with a child as uncomplaining and resilient as Mabel. That being said, no matter how guilty he felt it was impossible to find suitable living conditions all the time.

It would be best to take it where he could get it then.

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding to Adeline.

⃝

Trying hard to contain her delight and not freak out the others, Addi was suddenly reminded of something.

“Oh! A thing you may find useful …” She rotated her wrist around and flicked her fingers out.

“I think she’s trying to hypnotise us,” Mabel stage whispered, looking strangely keen.

“No, this is a hand signal.” Addi laughed. “It, well, it sort of means ‘I don’t want to hurt you, I’m on your side.’” She rolled her eyes at Stanford’s raised eyebrow. “At the very least it’ll confuse your enemies into stopping attacking, y’know, if you decide to just stand there and wave at them. But they’ll probably recognise it. It works in many of the dimensions I’ve been to.”

“You said ‘side’ as in side of a war?” Stanford picked up, perceptive as ever.

“No. Not yet anyway,”

“So, a resistance effort? Against what? Are you a part of this?”

Addi shifted uncomfortably. She’d want Wesley around to explain this. “I help out where I’m needed. I’m not officially a part of anything. If they need assistance they call me in, like with-”

“Recruiting?” Ford’s voice was suddenly as hard as steel.

“No, well yes, but not you, not Mabel. I don’t involve kids.” Addi became aware that the conversation had made a sharp turn off road.

“You don’t. However, in my experience resistances are often just as brutal and cruel as the institutions they overthrow,”

“I’m not trying to get either of you involved.” Addi raised her hands in a placating gesture. “I just think we could help you out.”

“We don’t need help,” Stanford said coldly.

Mabel doubled over coughing again. As Addi steadied her with a hand, the medical transport shuttle, which had been slowing imperceptibly, rocked to a halt. The cease in motion caused all three of them to sway, and Addi distinctly heard Stanford’s breath catch in his throat when he looked back at her. He froze up, and Addi knew, she just knew that her necklace was showing. In the following moment of silence and stillness, Mabel’s mouth dropped open as she saw it too.

“It’s not-” Addi tried desperately to say, but then her two, well she couldn’t call them friends anymore, heard footsteps thundering towards them from the door behind her.

Things happened very quickly after that.

Mabel tore herself out of Addi’s hand and ran to the exit hatch in one of the viewing walls. Stanford kicked the chair she had vacated into Addi’s knees, making her hiss in pain. With a blast from the man’s gun, Mabel shot the emergency hatch off, and then they were gone.

“Damn it!” Adeline shouted in mingled anger and despair. The two resistance members she had notified to escort them to their base in this dimension hurried into the room.

“Why were you running? There was no rush!”

“The driver was getting impatient,” the blue, three-eyed, spiny one said uncertainly.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm down, Addi reached up and removed her necklace.

“Shit,” she whispered, gazing down at the little golden triangle.

“They freaked, huh?” asked Kot, a green, tentacled, octopus-like person. Their words were filled with sympathy.

“Yeah,” Addi tried to keep her voice from cracking.

⃝

Three days and two dimensions later, Mabel’s cough was only getting worse. She felt unsteady on her feet, and her temperature was stubbornly increasing. She’d also noticed Ford starting to cough.

They could not afford to be sick.

They were both interdimensional outlaws – Mabel by association, Ford by intent – and any wrong move could draw attention to themselves. A one-eyed, yellow, demonic kind of attention. Their encounter with Addi had given them no choice but to keep moving.

“How far away’s the next portal?” she murmured. On the other side of the fire pit in the desert floor, Ford looked up from his calculations.

“Not far.” He said. “It will open in a few hours.”

Mabel nodded and shivered. She was too tired to speak. She was cold, even though she was wrapped in all the blankets they had. Even though she was next to a fire. Even though they were in a desert.

This sucks, she thought miserably. Hey, never had an alien virus though! This didn’t cheer her up as much as it had two days ago.

Ford’s smothered cough almost escaped her notice as the crackling of the fire. A pang of guilt went through her and she sniffled. Worry painted all over his face, her uncle came and sat next to her, rubbing her back.

“S’ry,” Mabel said.

“No, I shouldn’t have let us stay in that alley,”

“Meant for bein’ a hassle,”

“You’re not. You never are,”

Mabel was pretty sure that was a lie. Ford was always counting their rations to make sure there was enough for two. He was more focused on earning money so they could stay in actual dwelling places whenever possible. He always kept a secure grip on her hand when they walked into civilisation, and had gone out of his way to get her proper travelling clothes. Most regularly though, he took the time to teach her about the calculations he used, the most common social customs he’d found, and how to operate what technology they had. To her, it was obvious how much of his attention she took up. It was nice of him to lie though.

Mustering up some last dregs of energy, Mabel asked what had been weighing on her mind.

“Do you really think Addi was working for Bill? I mean, the necklace didn’t have an eye. It was just a triangle,”

“I don’t know,” Ford said tiredly. It must have been the millionth time she had asked that question.

“I really liked her,” Mabel said sadly.

“I know. I’m sorry,”

After a moment Ford drew the blankets around her tighter. “Get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He’d said that every night since she’d gotten a fever. She never did, but thankfully it was always easy to fall asleep. Waking up was the difficult part.

⃝

Ford woke up to the click of a weapon two sand dunes over. Quietly and quickly, he shook Mabel awake and checked that the smouldering coals of the fire were not bright enough to give away their position. Then he stuffed all their possessions into their bag, leaving one blanket around the girl. They were ready to move in under a minute.

When he took Mabel’s hand she was shaking. Not only her fingers, but her legs were trembling as if they were unused to the strain of lifting her, and her shoulders were heaving with the effort of suppressing violent coughs. Feeling his mouth go dry, he looked into her eyes. Their brown usually full of life, it was shocking to see how exhausted they were now. She seemed only half aware of what was going on.

Enough was enough. Once they were through the portal he was getting her to a hospital.

They made it across three sand dunes before their pursuers caught sight of them. Breaking into a run, Mabel was forced to stumble forwards with him as best she could. Unable to hold it in anymore, she dissolved into a full-blown coughing fit.

When the blue disc of the portal burst into brilliance ahead of them, the pursuers started shouting. A variety of languages met Ford’s ears, those that he understood phrasing questions.

“Stop! Who are you?”

“What are you doing here? Who sent you?”

“This is a warning shot!”

The sand next to them exploded, red lasers leaving afterimages across the dark sky. Ford instinctively threw himself in the opposite direction, cannoning into Mabel. Then he was on his feet and drawing his own gun, only to have it magnetically ripped out of his hands.

“Do not move,”

Ford reached out to push Mabel behind him, but the only resistance his hand met came from air. Ready to dive at the nearest assailant if they had so much as singed his niece, his head snapped around to see her on her hands and knees coughing so hard into the sand it sounded painful. He started towards her but another warning shot flew between them. He froze.

For a few seconds, all Ford could hear was the pulse pounding in his head and the agonised gasps for breath coming from his niece. Then the two pursuers began their interrogation.

“Tell us why you are here!”

“You were armed. That does not suggest a benign intention,”

“Are you affiliated with Wikert Expansion Enterprises?”

Mabel tried to say something, but all that came out was a croak, quickly overtaken by more coughs.

“We’re just travellers, we’re only passing through-” Ford tried.

“Travellers do not live like criminals,”

“What is wrong with the child?”

“I don’t know,” Ford said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Mabel was trying to get their attention. She waved an arm out ahead of her in lieu of words, or so Ford initially thought. Her coughs were coming harder and faster than ever, leaving her with barely enough time to breathe. Her condition was rapidly worsening. Could she be hallucinating? Was that why she was waving like that? Various thoughts presented themselves to him with lightning speed, but no solutions were among them.

With a huge rattling breath, Mabel gave one last cough. There was a muted splat as something dribbled out of her mouth and hit the sand. Ford’s heart seemed to stop as the portal gave one last flare before it disappeared, showing him clearly the red blood his little girl had choked out.

She shakily wiped her mouth and stood up, swaying. Then she made the hand signal she had been previously struggling to: a wrist rotation, followed by splayed fingers. After a very still moment, the two others echoed it.

Right then, the words “Come with us. We can help,” were the only ones necessary to convince Ford to trust them.

⃝

The structure was a monumental block in the middle of the desert. It was as big as a town, and twenty stories tall. Ford was not sure how they had missed it when they had arrived.

Another cough brought his attention back to Mabel. The following sob caused his throat to close up. More on edge than he had been in years, he hurried them both through one of the entrances, their two guides signalling the guards to let them in.

There were only a few people in this section, all wearing a black symbol on their clothes identifying them as medics. A small wave of relief flowed over him, and he looked down at Mabel as –

- as her eyes rolled back into her head and her legs finally buckled. Catching her before she hit the ground, Ford barely registered the panicked shout that left him, inducing the medical personnel to all hurry towards the commotion.

Ford swiftly checked Mabel’s breathing and heart-rate, neither of which were good. Her skin was clammy when he had been sure it was feverish only earlier that day. She was twitching slightly, but not seizing, which was indicative of –

A green, tentacled being started to pull his niece out of his arms. Instinctively, he jerked back, attempting to tighten his hold on her, but the stranger was already rushing away with the girl. Another swell of panic caused him to lash out, to try to stop them from moving out of his sight, even though he was dimly aware that it’s okay, they’re a doctor, they know what they’re doing. The hands of the guides closed around him for restraint, which only made him struggle harder. There was shouting, a call for help, an unintelligible reply, and a sharp prick in his right arm.

Fuck, was his last thought before he slipped into unconsciousness. Again.  

[donutpwns]

Journey to the Roots - Part 7

Part 6 - Part 8

“This paint is fresh.” Mabel points out; she can tell by the smell after all the paint she’s used over the years. She taps her fingers to the wall to find that the paint is dry. “Grunkle Ford was here thirty years ago but someone was here recently.” A chill runs down her spine and she pulls her hand away from the wall. “You don’t think Bill…?”

Dipper swallows thickly. Everything in his gut tells him they need to run but his curiosity sticks him in place. This was to figure out how to stop Bill, to protect Ford and Stan and all of Gravity Falls. Fate of the world stuff. He lets go of Mabel’s hand so he can pull out the notebook he’d tucked into the back of his shorts. Inside it he’s copied down everything Ford had between his Journals about Bill, all the symbols. He uses the notes as a translation guide, muttering and clicking his pen as he went through what he could read. There had to be something Ford had missed.

Something they could use to protect themselves from Bill beyond the barrier. They couldn’t just stay locked inside for the rest of their lives, and besides, someone from the outside could get to them. It was a safe base to stay in but that was about it.

While he studies, Mabel decides that the place really needs a makeover. Too much Bill for her liking; now that she thinks about it there’s a lot of Bill stuff at the Shack, like the rug in the gift shop. Good thing Ford hasn’t gone in there since the first day that he got really peeved about the fact that the Shack was a thing. She’ll have to toss it once they get home. But while they were here…

Dipper looks up at the sound of her giggles, his own mouth curling at the sight. Mabel’s got a thick purple marker out and is going to every painting of Bill that she can reach and adding mustaches and a single bushy brow to each. Part of him feels like they shouldn’t be graffiti-ing a piece of history like this but at the same time it’s Bill. He closes his notebook and runs over to her, taking the marker from her. He uses it to add a big speech bubble coming from a painting Bill looming over a bunch of stick people.

“’I am a living fart’? Really, that’s great, Dipper!” Mabel covers her mouth as she giggles. She takes the marker back and adds what Dipper assumes are stink lines coming from the triangle. Then she adds her own speech bubble coming from the people that read ‘peyew’ in big capital letters. “My best work to date, I think.” it could use some glitter for flavor but it'll do.

Dipper has to suppress his own giggles and pulls out one of the cameras he always has with him these days. “What is it you say? A scrapbookertunity?”

Mabel squeals and hugs her brother because he is the best. She left the Polaroid camera that Stan gave her at home. “Good thinking, Bro-Bro! This is a perfect addition to my ‘Bill is a doody face’ page.” She takes the camera from him and snaps a picture.

As soon as she does, they both feel an odd feeling wash over them. Something like déjà vu. Have they done this before?

They both look over to the painted wall a second before the voice sounds out, loud and chilling, “WELL WELL WELL WELL WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE?” the paint shifts and forms a giant red eye that glares at them as all color seems to disappear around them.

Their hands find each other and squeeze tight. Mabel moves closer to her brother, the hand not in his reaching up to grip his sleeve tight. Still she forces her voice to be loud and full, because you can't let the monsters know you're scared, that's what Ford says. “Go away, Bill!”

“HEY, THAT'S HURTFUL, SHOOTING STAR. YOU'RE THE ONE THAT CAME AND KNOCKED ON MY DOOR.” the paint shifts again into the shape of Bill; he peels himself off the wall with a sickening sound. There's an audible POP once he's free and he changes from red to yellow. “I'VE MISSED YOU BOTH, EVEN YOU, PINE TREE. HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO VISIT SINCE YOU PUT UP THAT BARRIER.”

“That’s kinda the point.” Dipper squeezes his sister's hand, glaring at the triangle. This all seems too familiar. He can't fight the feeling that he's forgetting something, something important.

Bill shrugs and begins floating around them in a lazy circle. “AND HERE I WAS HOPING YOU WOULD HELP ME WITH SOMETHING.”

Mabel snorts, grip loosening on Dipper’s sleeve. “As if we’d help you! We hate you, you pointy jerk!”

“THAT’S FAIR. BUT KNOW WHAT’S NOT HATEFUL? GIVING SECOND CHANCES AND HELPING SOMEONE FIND A LONG LOST FRIEND. ISN’T THAT THE SORTA THING YOU LOVE TO DO, SHOOTING STAR?” He moves in super close, forcing both twins to stumble back a few steps, and gives Mabel’s nose a tweak. The lower lid of his eye takes up most of his eye and his whole body seems to shake with manic giggles. “I JUST NEED YOU TO HELP ME FIND MY BEST FRIEND AND I’LL BE OUT OF YOUR LIVES FOREVER. INTERDIMINSIONAL SCOUTS HONOR!” he lifts a hand in a sort of salute.

Mabel might not be as smart as her brother, but even she can see through Bill’s crap. Normally she’d jump at the chance to reunite long lost friends, it’d be like something out of one of her books, but Bill didn’t have any friends that he needed to be with anymore. So she sticks her tongue out at him. “Never!”

The eye moves to focus on Dipper. “C’MON, PINE TREE. JUST SHAKE MY HAND. I'LL FIND MY FRIEND AND THEN YOU TWO WILL NEVER HEAR FROM ME AGAIN.” he sticks out his hand, blue flames lit up around it.

Mabel holds her brother's arm tighter and hisses, “Bill makes bad deals, Dipper, we can't trust him."

Dipper knows his sister's probably right, but he has a theory that he's been kicking around since he found out about Ford’s deal. It's like an old fairytale, the kind their mom used to read them. You have to be very particular with how you word your deal. That's how Bill tricked them, by following the letter of what he agreed to in the moment he shook your hand, not the intended meaning. “I help you find your friend and the moment you find them, you leave us alone forever. Got it? You never mess with us or our grunkles ever again?”

“YOU DRIVE A HARD BARGAIN, PINE TREE. BUT SURE. IT'S A DEAL!” the flames grew brighter, bigger. “SHAKE MY HAND AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN ONCE I GET MY FRIEND BACK!”

Dipper takes a deep breath and reaches for Bill’s hand. Even if this fails, they have Ford now, the expert on Bill. He was sure that his family could stop Bill if he messed up. But if it succeeds, then they would be free of Bill and all Dipper has to do is be possessed for a little. Sure, last time he had to shower like thirty times before he felt even a little clean, but that was a small price to pay to be a hero. It’s what Ford would do in his place, he’s sure.

Her brother is an idiot, a complete moron. This can't end well. “Wait!” she grabs her brother’s wrist before he can touch Bill. She swallows thickly; this was such a bad idea. But what was it that Stan and Ford used to say when they were kids? Wherever we go, we go together. And if there was a chance that this could work, that they could be free of Bill, that they could protect their uncles...She trusts Dipper. “Make the deal with both of us.”

“Mabel, no.” This was his bad idea; if it went south, she had to stop him. “You can't—"

She squeezes his hand extra tight, meeting his eyes. She's scared, he knows and he hates it, but she's not going to back down. “Trust me.” She whispers, the permanent exception to the rule, before looking back at Bill. She sticks out the hand not holding Dipper’s. “C'mon. Two twins for the price of one. That's a deal.”

Bill rubs under his eye with his thumb and index finger, making a vibrating humming sound. His eye darts between them and narrows. Then he crosses his arms as he stretches a hand to each of them, blue flames glowing bright in the dim cave. “IT'S A DEAL!”

The moment before they take his hands, Dipper freezes. Wait. No, they've done this before. They've shaken his hands before and then...then they find Blandin and Dipper wakes up in the snow. This has all happened before.

The circle of candles, the ropes, Stan’s hand on his head and the sounds of Ford reciting the spell.

“This is a memory.” he pulls Mabel back before she can shake Bill's hand; he should've done that in the first place. This was such a monumental bad idea, how could he have thought it wasn't? Oh he was so stupid. “Mabel, this isn't real! This is a memory! We're in our mindscape!”

Mabel is confused for a moment before her mind catches up. She looks up at where Bill is frozen above them, hands glowing but unmoving, like a movie that's been paused. She steps forward and waves a hand in front of his face. Nothing. “So this is weird.” a grin steals her face and she picks up the marker she’d dropped when Bill had showed up so she can make him match his painting.

It wasn't just her fault; the cave had been her idea, but the deal had been Dipper’s. They screwed up together. Now they could fix it together. Knowing that made her feel braver, made her feel less garbage. The Mystery Twins could break and then fix anything.

Now they just have to save their uncles. “We've gotta find Stan and Ford.” She looks at her brother and grabs his hand again. Bill can't keep them apart in their own heads. And it's the mindscape, the place where she could have rocket powered kitten fists! “Before Bill finds whoever he's looking for.”

Who could Bill be looking for back in this time? Ford was the one who summoned him and Ford hadn't told anyone else about Bill so—

They both squeeze each other's hand together as the realization dawns.

“You don't think he's looking for…?” Dipper starts.

“...Younkle Ford had to go to sleep to do the spell, didn't he?” Mabel continues.

They both swear in unison, “Hot Belgian waffles!”

--------------

Their mindscape is apparently books, something Dipper wishes he could be surprised about. As they run through the halls, Dipper realizes that he never really thought about what his own mind would look like; he just thought it was all doors and such, like Stan’s. When they stop at a split in the hall, he looks at the books on the shelves. Thick, glitter covered scrapbooks and journals bound in leather.

“This place is a maze!” Dipper groans, scratching at his head under his hat. How was his own mind so confusing? Well, he supposed it was also Mabel’s mind and he also had no idea where to go, but still. It shouldn’t be so hard to find stuff. “Maybe we can think up a map or something?” he tries to do so but keeps getting caught up on the fact that he knows nothing about what this place is like and therefore what if his map is wrong?

Mabel looks around, peering at the various books on the shelves. Their memories were journals and scrapbooks, apparently. That made sense. Dipper liked to write down everything and Mabel never met a good moment that wasn’t begging to be expressed with glitter and bright paper. Once they got home, she’d have to fill up so many pages with what happened here. Once she was done hugging Stan and Ford and— “Oh, I know!” she hits the heel of her fist against her open palm as the idea strikes her. She closes her eyes and focuses really hard. Slightly ahead of her a white puff of smoke appears and in its wake, something that makes her squeal, all anxiety and fear momentarily forgotten. “Waddles!”

Dipper rolls his eyes as his sister tackles the pig and peppers him with kisses. It’s nice to see his sister so happy, but they have things to do. “Mabel, I know you miss him, but we need to find Stan and Ford. They don’t know what Bill’s after.”

“That’s what he’s here for!” she gives him one last nuzzle before standing up. She puts her hands on her knees and grins at him. “Waddles! We need to find Stan and Ford! You can sniff ‘em out, right? Who’s my little guy, whose my smart little guy with the bestest, cutest little sniffer ever?” she boops his little snoot because he is too cute, “You are! Yes you are! So let’s find our Younkles! Good boy!”

Waddles oinks in a way that is totally a ‘Right away, Mabel, BTW I love you’ before putting his nose to the ground. Mabel jumps up and down and claps as he starts chasing a smell. “Ohhh! Waddles, you are the best, forever and for always!”

Dipper rolls his eyes again before grabbing his sister’s hand to chase after the pig. It was a good idea; he had to admit, so long as it worked. Waddles seemed to be able to find Stan no matter what after the whole pterodactyl incident.

 Ahead of them they can hear Ford yelling, “Stanley, he’s not—” Then he seems to cut himself off, “I’m giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life, and you won’t even listen!” Mabel wrinkles her nose; does Ford have to be so mean now of all times?

They turn the corner to see Ford struggling, suspended in midair and glowing blue, and Stan trapped between a set of shelves and a broken looking Bill. That was definitely not the Bill from their memory. Was that what happened when they both shook his hand? Serves the buttmunch right.

“YOU SHAKE MY HAND AND YOU’LL GO AWAY FOREVER. NO MORE FAILED CONS, NO MORE DOUBTS; NO MORE BEING THE LOAD ON EVERYONE YOU CARE ABOUT. THE KIDS WILL BE FREE AND YOU’LL NEVER HAVE TO THINK ABOUT FORD EVER AGAIN.” Bill has his cane digging into the underside of Stan’s chin; it looks painful. “C’MON, STAN. BE THE ONE THAT SAVES THE DAY INSTEAD OF RUINING IT LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO. SHAKE MY HAND.”

“Younkle/Grunkle Stan!” they shout together and run forward.

Stan’s eyes are red when he looks at them; Mabel thinks about when she was crying to him in the car. Sweetheart, I'm terrified. Bill can see your nightmares; he knows what you're afraid of, what you want more than anything. This Stan has never had to deal with him before.

Bill's eye narrows at them. “WELL, YOU CERTAINLY GOT HERE QUICKER THAN I THOUGHT.” There's a loud thump sound as Ford hits the ground.

Dipper pulls his hand from his sister's to run over to Ford, helping his uncle to his knees. Ford's got this wild, angry look on his face, different from the one he'd had when Dipper had showed up at his door. Less paranoid crazy and more feral. He braces a hand on Dipper’s shoulder as he rights himself, glaring holes at where Bill has his brother pinned.

“Get away from my Younkle!” Mabel tries to run to Stan only to find herself lifted off the ground. There's a moment of confusion as she tries to right herself before she's thrown into her brother and Ford. She hears Ford grunt and feels his arm go around her waist as he takes the brunt of the hit.

“Hey!” Stan shouts and they look up to see him being held in place with a cane to his chest. It's a relief to see him angry instead of scared at least. “Back off, ya one eyed demon! You think I can't smell a bad con? Now get the hell away from my—” he tries to shove forward only to freeze in place; all the color leaves his face when he looks down to see the cane embedded in his chest. “What the—"

Bill's yellow coloring is changing, slowly morphing to red like a poisoned sunset. Something black begins to ooze from the crack that runs down his middle, bubbling and hissing angrily as it drips to the floor. There's a stench like rotten eggs in the air. “I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR STUPID, WORTHLESS FAMILY NOT STICKING TO THE PLAN!” his voice is deeper than normal, seems to make the air itself vibrate as it booms. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW PISSED OFF YOU MAKE ME?!”

There's an explosion of red as Bill rips the cane free, splattering the books behind Stan and soaking his shirt and jacket. Mabel feels her stomach drop; Ford’s grip on her goes painfully tight. Dipper feels like he's going to be sick. No, no, this isn't real. It's the mindscape that meant it wasn't real, right? But Dipper hadn't bled when he'd had a hole blown in him. Why was Stan bleeding?

Stan stumbles back, one hand going to grip the bloody hole in his chest. He keeps his eyes on Bill though and looks like he's muttering something that they can't quite hear.

“WORSE? YOU'VE HAD WORSE? YOU'RE KILLING ME HERE. WELL, METAPHORICALLY.” Bill turns to look at them; his eye is red to match the rest of him and his pupil is more slitted than normal. The black ooze slicks down his front, nearly obscuring his bowtie completely. “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, FORD. I WAS GOING TO TRY TO BE NICE BUT NOW I'M JUST GOING TO HAVE TO KILL ALL OF YOU.” he punctuates the statement by slamming the cane into Stan’s face, sending him falling sideways, even as he never takes his eye off Ford.

Ford practically growls, six fingers digging in painfully to Mabel’s side. He shoves her so she's behind him and stands in front of both her and her brother. In a blink he has a gun in his hand; not the sci-fi one he has after the portal, but a real one. “Cipher…” he makes that growly sound again and points the gun at him.

Stan is still gripping the bloody spot on his chest as he stands, breathing heavy and mouth moving silently. Dipper doesn't understand how Stan is really hurting. It's the mindscape; nothing has power unless you think it—oh.

Stan doesn't know it's not real. He doesn't know the rules of the mindscape! Of course he's bleeding and hurting; he doesn't know that he doesn't have to. His mind thinks his body is damaged and in pain so it is. Dipper stares at the blood covering Stan’s hand and focuses really hard.

Stan stares down in amazement as the red fades, the hole in his shirt and chest instantly mended, just like he'd done for Dipper in his own mind. He looks up and when he meets Dipper's eyes, a confused smile twitches across his face. It only lasts a second, however, before it's lost to a flinch. The gun fires with a loud bang, like a crack of thunder that has both kids covering their ears at the sheer volume of it in the confined space.

A hole explodes in the lower corner of Bill's shape. What has to be a gallon of the black goop hits the floor; the stench is worse, almost suffocating. In an instant the wound is healed. “YOU'RE NOT THAT STUPID, FORD. AND THAT'S SAYING SOMETHING, BECAUSE YOU'RE AN IDIOT.” Bill's eye moves in its mouthless smile as he speaks. In a blink he's on the other side of Stan, shoving him forward to stand in the puddle of Bill's...blood? The stuff quivers, moving like liquid metal with a magnet, before climbing up Stan’s shoes. “IT'S A PITY. YOU HAD SUCH POTENTIAL. IT'S EASY TO SEE WHY EVERYONE KEEPS RUINING THEIR LIVES OVER YOU. AND NOW THEY'RE GOING TO DIE FOR YOU.” He grabs Stan’s shoulders. “UNLESS STAN WANTS TO MAKE A DEAL.”

The gun shakes just so in Ford's hand. Mabel tries to scream, but her voice is gone; she can feel Bill's eye slide over her. Her eye burns and waters and for a moment she can feel the ropes that bind her to the chair in the real world, feel the heating metal of the shackle on her wrist to keep her holding her brother's hand. It feels like being on the edge of waking up, like those dreams where you're in your bed but can't move as things move across your ceiling.

Get out of my head. Get out of my head. Get out get out get out!

“MAN, AND I THOUGHT I WAS CRAZY NOW.”

A cold stone forms in the younger twins stomachs; their hands instinctively reach for each other. It shouldn't be possible. If there was anything good in the world, this shouldn't be allowed to even be a possibility.

But still it is. He's not cracked or bleeding black sludge like the one holding Stan in place, but instead whole as he floats before them. A second Bill Cipher.

“WELL HELLO, HANDSOME.” the broken Bill coos, his color shifting back to the obnoxious yellow to match his counterpart. “JUST THE GUY I WAS WANTING TO SEE. TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH. I PRACTICALLY GIFT WRAPPED HIM FOR YOU.”

le EmphasO��|�5

[shadowofthelamp]

Let’s Just Talk

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

We return to Ford’s house, and he finally gets some comfort. Yes, this one finally has the hug in it. I’ve written and rewritten this the most of the four of these because it’s the one I originally meant to be the whole thing, before I decided it needed plot. 

Wordcount: 1521

You count your breaths as your fingers drum on the dashboard of your pickup truck.

Stanford Pines is a dangerous man. You knew that the second he pulled you inside and stammered paranoid nonsense moments after you'd met.

But now two weeks later, after a visit from some kind of dream triangle monster with the name of an accountant, you are well aware that it's not paranoid nonsense, it's paranoid sense.

One, two. Deep breaths. He's someone who needs help.

Three, four. He's put trust in you, and it's very likely he hasn't done so with anyone else.

Five, six. You'll regret it for the rest of your life if he ends up a suicide case in the Gossiper and you could have prevented it.

Seven, eight. Your seatbelt unclicking sounds like your father's shotgun going off in the near-silence of the abandoned road Stanford lives down.

Nine, ten. Your gloved fingers linger on the door handle but in one smooth motion you press down and push out.

Your boots crunch in the snow, and you grunt, hauling an old space heater with you. If Bill didn't get him, hypothermia was going to, and that at least was a relatively easy thing to fix. It had been in the basement, and was a bit rusty, so neither of your parents had minded you taking it.

Upon reaching the porch, you set it down with a 'thump' and knock on the door twice. "Hello!"

"Who is- oh. Password?"

"Scampfire ashes, I think it was?"

"Come in." Stanford fiddles with the lock for a minute before pulling the door open, and you head for the living room. He's cleared a tiny space on the loveseat he'd admitted to only purchasing because it was on sale, and you settle down on the left side of it, scooting away the heater with your foot and clicking it on.

"You're freezing your butt off out here, so I thought I'd bring this. It's battery powered so it'll be fine for a while."

Stanford stares at you for a moment, before sitting on the giant's thumb and burying his face in his hands.

"Woah, are you- is there something wrong?" A beat. "More than usual, anyways."

"I don't understand." His voice is strained, in the way you recognize someone is about to start crying but is doing their best to avoid it. "You've been nothing but kind when I'm such a disaster. Why? You said you knew how it felt. Is it pity? I don’t need-"

"I want to help. That’s all. Stanford, you're going half out of your mind trying to fix whatever mistake you made. You're kind of a mess, but that's not a disaster to me." You smile, but it's weak. "You said I could help you with your research?"

"I... yes, I did, give me a moment." He makes his way around the clutter, over to a pile of boxes that were haphazardly jammed full of decrepit scrolls and books that were yellower than a rotted body. The cover falls off of one as he picks it up, and he heaves a sigh. He grunts, grabbing a few and setting them down on the arm of the chair. You begin to flip through them, and wince at how faded the writing is.

Nonetheless, you said you'd help, so that's what you'll damn well do. "What am I looking for?"

"Information on the Eye of Providence, or other symbols related to it. Possible weaknesses would be fantastic, but anything would be good at this point." He's already surrounded himself with scrolls, and within moments he's reciting something that sounds like Latin to himself.

The clock ticks as the minutes slip by, and you slide off your coat. The space heater makes the house, while still pretty creepy, much more hospitable, and while you don't see much about any Eye you do learn that there was a lot of study about how much language cavemen knew. When the clock strikes two, you speak up.

"The triangle guy, Bill, showed up in my dream last night."

His gaze shoots up, and his eyes are indeed red, but he nearly falls on his face as he slips off the thumb while trying to grab you. He ends up on one knee, hands gripping the sides of your arms and head bent. "I knew it, I knew letting you stay around was a bad-"

"I said no."

Eyes the color of damp sand snap up to meet yours. "...What?"

"I can see how he could be appealing, but because of your warning, I told him I didn't want what he was offering. Because I met you, I knew to say no." He stands up, still holding your sleeves. From how tight his fingers are curled, it's the only thing keeping him grounded.

"But- but if you hadn't met me, he would have never approached you-"

"You don't know that. I'm a smart lady, maybe he would have looked for something else." You pull in a deep breath, a chill icing your lungs. "I know you feel like everything you do will just make things worse, and I know how hard it must have been to let me come here." Your fingers rest on the rubber band around your wrist you'd snapped until your skin was raw more times than you can count. "You're a brave man, Stanford Pines."

He swallows before sitting down next to you. His cheeks are flushed slightly from the heater, and you can't help but notice the freckles again, even on his sunken cheeks.

"I made a massive mistake. Bill... he offered me the chance to change the world." His hands are settled on his lap now, wringing against his pants. You can see the veins.

"You still can, but you can do it on your own terms." Your left hand moves to rest on top of both of his. "The world can seem like hell, but you're trying to fix your mess-up. Bill seemed like a pretty charming guy, you can't blame yourself for believing him. You wanted to make things better for everyone, right? That's not a bad thing. As long as you're still here, you've got a chance."

Your hips are already touching his, but you turn in order to wrap your arms around his shoulders. He stops moving for a moment, before turning and hugging you tighter than you've ever been hugged in your life. His chin rests on your shoulder, and yours on his. You can feel his warm breath on your neck, and you close your eyes.

"You're not a bad person. You can get through this." You're barely speaking above a whisper now, and a shudder makes you shiver as he holds back a sob.

"I don't deserve this." He mumbles, and your fingers tighten around the fabric of his trench coat.

"No one deserves what's happening to you." You tug him closer, before taking a deep breath. "It might sound sappy, but I think we were meant to meet."

"What do you mean?"

With great reluctance, you pull away, grabbing both his hands and squeezing them. "I had bad depression. I never saw any point in living, from my late teens to last year. Everything seemed like a dull gray mess."

His head tilts ever so slightly, and his glasses move with it, an inch askew. He didn't fix them.

"Then, my mother forced me to see a counselor. I got help, and I learned just how important support is. Sometimes you have to kick yourself in the ass to get up in the morning, and sometimes you have to find someone willing to kick it for you."

Your hand lets go of his to adjust the glasses using the hinges. "I always wondered if she noticed before I offed myself for a reason- if there was something I was supposed to do."

His eyes were wide, and you pull him into another hug. He doesn't resist, and all you can hear is the thump of his heartbeat. It's faster than yours.

"I need to stop him. I let him trick me because I was blind." His voice still shakes. "If it kills me, then fine. It's my fault."

You angle yourself so the two of you are pressed together as much as possible, sharing your warmth, because he's so, so cold. "You're not alone anymore. Maybe you messed up, but there's nowhere to go but up, right? Things will work out, Stanford. Can’t kill a demon if you’re in the grave yourself."

He takes a breath you can feel against your chest. "Call me Ford."

He clung to you, and you clung to him, for longer than you cared to keep track of. The tick of time passing was muted under the buzzing in your head and the soft breaths next to your ear. At some point, you thought you heard a 'thank you', but it could have been your imagination.

He smelled of sweat and dust and coffee and fear, but in that moment, somehow you knew that things were going to be okay.

[sniffla]

Laughter- A Short Gravity Falls Fanfiction

This was requested by waldorkler.

Hope you enjoy!

Summary:

Bill possesses Wendy to get the Rift off of Dipper.

~~~

HAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHA!

     Bill Cipher had entered his mind before, and had harassed his family for decades. He knew his laugh. It haunted him. Sometimes, he would be out in public, and he would hear it. It was always in places it should not be.

     But Bill was no longer in his mind. So why, why on earth, was he hearing that maniacal laughter so crystal clearly, as if it was right by his side. It was so close... right in his ear... at the edge of his bed...

     Dipper flew up in bed, gasping.

     He was awake. It had only been a dream...

     His hands quivered in his lap and his head felt cloudy.

     But through the haze, he could hear something... something achingly familiar.

     Had it truly been a dream? If it had been, then why was it that he could still hear the laughter?

     Confused, Dipper called out into the darkness, “Mabel,” only to get no response.

     Squinting through the moonlight that spilled from the triangular window, Dipper could see that Mabel’s bed was empty, the pink sheets neatly folded around the mattress, and he recalled his sister was off at Candy’s having a sleep over.

     The laughter still hung in the air, and it was making Dipper severely anxious. But then, it stopped.

     Dipper sat in bed for a few moments, deep in thought with the thousands of possibilities. Was Bill in the house? Had he possessed someone again? 

     Then, noiselessly, Dipper threw his legs over the edge of his bed. He groped around blindly on the nightstand until his fingers uncovered a flashlight beneath a magazine.

     With the light in hand, Dipper stood and slowly, carefully, picked his way to the door, sure to avoid any areas of the floor that creaked or squeaked when stepped on. The wood planks were cold against his feet compared to the warm arms of his bed. 

     Dipper was not sure what he expected to see outside the door, but what was to come was something he could have never guessed. 

     The boy reached for the door, but the skin on his fingertips barely grazed the rusty surface of the knob before it was ripped away from his grasp.

     Dipper leaped back, gasping.

     In the entryway stood Wendy. She was looking down at his through a pair of dark sunglasses.

     “Wendy!” Dipper exclaimed.

     “Hey, Dipper.” Wendy greeted, flashing a charming smile. She reached down to tousle Dipper’s brown hair, causing him to stumble backwards.

     Wendy paraded right into the room and looked around with her hands on her hips.

     “What are you doing here?” Dipper questioned. “It’s like... I don’t know... three in the morning?” 

     “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know!” chuckled Wendy. “I just was dying to see my favorite person!” 

     Dipper saw something move behind her sunglasses. He was aware that it would be naive to think nothing was amiss here, but this was Wendy... or... was it...?

     “What’s that?” Wendy gasped suddenly.

     Before Dipper could utter a single word, Wendy had thrown open his book bag, spilling the contents over the ground. From the pile, she lifted the Rift, and a new wave of suspicion settled over Dipper. The Rift had not been visable when Wendy noticed it. 

     “Uh... Maybe you should put that down...” Dipper stuttered, reaching out to take it from Wendy’s hand.

     Wendy, though, snatched the Rift away from his outstretched arms. “What is it?”

     “It... It’s called the Rift.” Dipper said slowly. “And I’d really appreciate if you gave it back...”

     “The Rift...”

     The raw hunger in her voice caused Dipper to stop in his tracks. A chill slipped down his spine. She laughed. But it was not her laugh. It was a shrill noise, horrible, and... familiar.

     Dipper jumped into action. 

     He stole the Rift right out of “Wendy’s” hands and, without hesitation, raced for the door. 

     “Wendy’s” sunglasses fell off in the process, revealing bright yellow, slit eyes.

     Dipper, avoiding glancing back, ripped the door open. He raced off, the Rift clutched against his chest. “Grunkle Ford!”

     Panting, Dipper’s eyes scanned the shack for somewhere- anywhere- to safely hide the Rift.

     “Dipper?”

     Dipper’s blood turned to ice and he could have sworn there was a moment where his heart stopped dead in its tracks. The boy spun around, pupils shrunken with fear. 

     “Dipper? Where’d you go?” Wendy’s voice was calling from upstairs. The ceiling creeked under her footsteps. 

     I’ve got to get out of here! Thoughts popped into Dipper’s head like a waterfall as the panic fogging his mind and chaining his limbs dissolved. 

     Then, he took off like a shot, his hands frantically scrambling to open the door.

     “Dipper? Are you downstairs?” 

     Thumping echoed throughout the shack as muddy boots struck the stairs in descent. 

     The knob finally turned under Dipper’s sweaty palm, and he flew out the door and towards the woods, making a conscious effort not to shake the Rift in his arms.

     Cold, forest air rushed over him from the night sky, and little stars stared down at him through the canopy of leaves above.

     There was a noise behind him as he ran; “Wendy” had followed him outside.

     Eyes shut, breath coming fast, and Rift secure in his hands, Dipper weaved throughout the trees and underbrush. Thorns cut his legs and twigs from tree branches scraped at his arms, but through his adrenaline rush, he barely felt anything.      

     Suddenly, a stray root wrapped around his foot, causing him to collapse in the dirt, feet swept right out from under him. His head struck something hard, and for a bit, he laid there, staring at the stars and watching his vision waver and blur. 

     Suddenly, Wendy’s face appeared above his face, eyes spilling with a yellow glow, pupils just vertical, black shards. 

     “Bill!” Dipper shouted, then instantly thought of Mabel. “ Bendy...?” 

    Bendy began to chuckle, then reached down. “Hand me the Rift.”

     Dipper whimpered a bit as he slapped Bendy’s outstretched hand, then scrambled away. 

     “Leave Wendy alone!” He cried out. 

     Bendy lifted his hand to his chin in mock consideration. “Hmmm... how about you hand me the Rift and I won’t kill her.”

     Dipper’s heart skipped a beat. “K-kill her? You wouldn’t!”

     Bendy’s face twisted into a deranged grin, and he spoke in a devilish voice. “Oh, wouldn’t I?”

     He snapped his fingers and a wood chipper appeared, roaring to life like a vicious monster. Its orange body glistened in the silver light of the moon, like a wicked beast. 

     Dipper gasped and scrambled away from it, stunned. Since when could Bill summon things outside of the mindscape?

     Before he could ponder the question, Bendy calmly sauntered up to the wood chipper, dangerously close to the spinning blades.

     “Stop!” Dipper shouted.

     “Give me the Rift!” Bendy demanded seriously. “Hand it over or Wendy here may just have to take a trip...” He leaned back precariously towards the opening of the chipper.

     Dipper clenched his teeth, sweaty palms encircling the Rift. His mind was racing like a swarm of angry bees.

    What was he to do?! If he gave Bill the Rift, who knew what would happen... But if he did not... Wendy...

     His fists balled up so tight his knuckles turned white and he had begun to shake... He could not let Wendy get hurt... it would be his fault.

     “Take it!” He burst, thrusting the Rift out and shutting his eyes tightly. He could not care to see it pass into Bendy’s gasp.

     There was a cackle and then the weight in Dipper’s hands disappeared. He let out a trembling breath, the weight of his decision fully resting on his shoulders.

     What have I done?!

     “Now let Wendy go. And leave out whole family alone!” Dipper cried, emotion heavy in his voice.

     But, to his horror, Bill did not let Wendy go. He just smiled, staring at the Rift with a vibrant hunger in his eyes. Then, he gazed up at Dipper with what almost seemed like pity in his eyes.

     “Fleshbags really are dumb!” He chuckled. “You just doomed your entire world!” Suddenly, his voice dropped incredibly, menacingly deep. “Enjoy the apocalypse!”

     In a bout of sick laughter, Bendy fell backwards, right into the wood chipper.

     “Wendy?” Dipper gasped, totally dumbstruck. Then, he shrieked, “WENDY, NO!”

     But it was too late. 

     There was a shriek, and then Bill, in his usual yellow triangle abomination form, appeared out of the top of the chipper, his awful, shrill guffawing peircing the night air.

     Dipper screamed, covering his teary eyes with his arms, and-

~~~~

    Dipper flew up in bed, calling out in fear.

     His eyes flicked back and forth frantically, searching for Bill and Wendy... the wood chipper... the Rift... But he found nothing. He was back in his room, in the Mystery Shack. 

     Sweat dripped down his face and back, and his entire body was quivering like a leaf in the wind. His sheets were tossed about and damp from perspiration, showing signs of a struggle.  

     Then, suddenly, he understood.

     It had been a dream.

     “Dipper?”

     Dipper lifted his head and was surprised to see Mabel standing there at his bedside, a pillow tucked under her arm and her blanket in her hand, dragging on the hardwood floor. Only in the dream had she been with Candy.

     She rubbed her eyes sleepily and spoke, worry lining her voice. “Dipper? Are you ok? You were rolling around a lot... and then you screamed.”

     Dipper sighed. “I’m ok, Mabel. It was just a nightmare.” He tried to sound reassuring, but his voice was still trembling. 

     Mabel plopped down uninvited in his bed, and he scooted over to give her room as she sat criss-cross on his mattress. “What was it about?” She yawned, leaning back.

     “Er...” Dipper hesitated. “I’d prefer not to talk about it...”

     But Mabel did not respond. She seemed to have fallen asleep.

     Dipper watched her for a moment, then his own tiredness crashed over him like a wave. Eyes growing heavy, he rested himself down behind Mabel and let out a long breath.

     He was safe. And so was Wendy.

[orangeoctopi7]

A Minor Inconvenience

@stanuary Week 3 is dreams, so I dusted off a little ficlet I stated on my mission and never finished. I think it fits with the theme.

Inspired by this comic: http://tateratots.tumblr.com/post/144146684592/so-what-if-stan-gains-some-of-bills-powers-and-it

It had been a long time since they’d started their journey. They didn’t think there was anything to worry about anymore. They’d left the nightmare that was the end of last summer behind. They both still had actual nightmares, of course, but that was nothing new, really. Sure, some of Stan’s were a little too real, a little too different from the rest, but he shrugged it off. What was ‘normal’ to a dream, anyway? So they sailed along, going about their business, until the fact that something was up became undeniable.

The night had started off normally enough, with the twin brothers playing a game of Egyptian Rat Slap. Stan, deciding that a stinging red welt on the back of the loser’s hand wasn’t prize enough, proposed a wager.

“Loser does the winner’s chores for a week.” He said.

Ford contemplated the offer for a moment.

“Including dish duty?” The old scientist asked.

“Well yeah, what other chores are there? You’ve got nerd gadgets rigged up to do everything else on this boat.”

“Not everything. There’s still cleaning and maintaining said gadgets, not to mention the bathroom and--”

“Hey we can go over the details and junk later, have we got a deal or not?”

“Alright, it’s a deal.”  Ford said, extending his arm to shake on it.

“Deal!” Stan agreed, extending his own hand. Only something was wrong. It was enshrouded in blue flames.

Ford jerked back with a yelp, while Stan just stared in bewilderment as the flames died away.

“What the heck was that?” Stan wondered, looking to his brother for an answer as he often did when they ran into paranormal shenanigans on their voyage. Only Ford wasn’t standing there taking notes with an excited grin as he usually did. He was backed up against the wall, watching his brother cautiously.

“Uh, Ford, you ok?”

“Stanley?” Ford asked warily, unsure of who he was really talking to.

This was lost on Stan. “Uh, I’m good. Didn’t get burned somehow.”

Ford moved so he was between Stan and the exit and pulled out his penlight. “Come here.” he demanded curtly.

It took Stan a few seconds to realize what his brother was getting at, but he sighed in exasperation the moment it dawned on him. “Seriously? I’m not--” But it looked as though Ford would check by force if necessary. Stan stepped over, his hands in the air placatingly, and let Ford shine the light in his eyes, searching for the tell-tale yellow. But the scientist couldn’t find anything; Stan’s eyes were their usual earthy brown color.

“There, you feel better now?” Stan asked, rubbing his eyes.

“This doesn’t make any sense…” Ford murmured to himself, then noticed his brother’s discomfort. “Stan, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’d better be, I’ve got a headache now.”

Ford still looked troubled.

“Hey, don’t worry.” Stan comforted his brother, “Bill’s gone, we killed him, remember?”

“Yes, I remember, but you shouldn’t! I’m glad that you recovered, yes, more than I’ve been about anything, but if your memories weren’t completely erased, how can we be sure Bill was? What else could explain what just happened?”

“I dunno, something else?” Stan shrugged. “There’s gotta be other things that make blue fire, right?”

Ford looked ready to launch into a lengthy explanation of exactly how many other things make blue fire and why none of them fit this situation.

“I just don’t want you to fall into that same crazed paranoia I found you in before… you know….”

Ford shifted his gaze, ashamed, “I’ll never let that happen again.”

“Neither will I.” Stan promised him.

“Then will you let me do one more thing to ease my suspicions?”

Stan groaned. “It doesn’t involve getting hooked up to some of your science junk, does it?”

“No, in fact it involves you going to bed early.” Ford assured him.

“I like the sound of that.”

**Linebreak** 

Stan was usually the first to fall asleep and the last to wake up on top of being a frequent napper. Yet he had a hard time falling asleep on demand. Ford watching him didn’t help.

“Could you find something else to do while I’m trying to fall asleep?” The old con man asked irritably, “I can’t relax with you here.”

“I’m usually here when you sleep.” Ford pointed out.

“Yeah, in the other hammock, not staring me down like some hungry owl!”

“Well I’m not leaving you alone until I figure out what caused that phenomenon earlier!”

“Y’mean my hand catching fire.”

Ford sighed and pulled out a large textbook.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Stan gasped, trying to call his brother’s bluff.

“Transition State Theory made a breakthrough in the early 30’s when three independent researchers, Eyring, Polanyi, and Evans, each derived the same equation based on the assumption that activated components are in quasi-equilibrium with the reactants, and thus can be described with a classical thermodynamic treatment.”

“You play dirty.” Stan grumbled through a yawn.

“This is not always true, as has been shown in semiconductors and insulators where the initial excited state may exceed the energy of the saddle point. However, where Potential Energy Surfaces are concerned, the equation is viable, and is thus derived. Consider the reaction…” Before Ford had finished the first step, Stan was asleep.

Ford put his book down and quickly pulled out candles for the spell. Once they were all lit, he recited the incantation to enter into the dreamscape.

The old researcher didn’t know exactly what he expected to find in his brother’s mind. He’d heard Mabel, Dipper, and Soos recount how they entered Stan’s mind to chase Bill earlier last summer, but he hadn’t expected to see the same thing tonight. Minds were transient, constantly changing as personal experiences added to the mental landscape. Stan had been through enough in the few months since then to completely change the face of him mindscape many times over.

Still, whatever Ford had or hadn’t expected, it wasn’t this.

He stood on the deck of a ship, at once like their own and yet infinitely bigger and grander. It sailed on a dark, foreboding sea, and a large fishing net was currently dropped over the side, trawling for what, Ford could only guess. Strewn about the deck were many treasure chests of all shapes and sizes. Stray thoughts flew about like seagulls overhead.

I’m gonna get him for that book trick. Ford heard one call. He couldn’t help by smirk.

Don’t get so smug, Poindexter, you’re on my turf now! Another thought sounded overhead.

Ford’s smirk switched to a look of surprise. Stan’s mindscape seemed to be aware of his presence. He decided to try a little experiment and walked over to the net to examine it.

“I wonder what this does?” He said aloud. Immediately a pulley started to bring it up from the depths. A few small chests were tangled inside. Ford reached up and pulled the net over the deck, emptying the catch out at his feet. He picked up the smallest chest and, unable to resist his curiosity, opened it.

The inside was like a tiny window into another time and place. He saw a slightly younger Stan and a much younger Soos.

“Who the heck’s that brat tearing up my dirt parking lot with his mountain bike?” Stan asked.

“Oh, that’s my cousin Reggie.” Soos replied.

“Would you care if I shot rock-salt at him?”

Ford closed the lid and put the chest down. “So they’re memories.”

You coulda just asked, genius.

And

Gotta tell Soos I remembered his bratty cousin’s name.

Called out from the seagulls above.

“I must say, Stan, I’m impressed by how aware you are of everything here.” Ford complimented him.

The seagulls cawed out stray thoughts proudly, mostly falsely modest acceptance of the praise.

“You know why I’m here. Can you help me find Bill, or whatever caused that phenomenon earlier?”

The gulls’ cawing became more nervous.

No Bill here!

I have no idea what’s going on!

Just dreams, nothing to worry about.

It’s probably nothing.

I don’t want him to worry.

Ford’s expression hardened. “What dreams?”

Then he saw it, out of the corner of his eye, a little wedge of yellow no larger than a cornchip, wiggling out from the confines of the net he’d just pulled up and scrambling across the deck. Ford sprang into action and pounced on it just as it reached the corner of the cabin.

“You!” He cried angrily, trapping the tiny triangle beneath his sizable hand, “I knew it had to be you!”

Then another, slender, black, inhuman hand grabbed onto the tiny triangle and plucked it from his grasp.

“I’LL TAKE THAT, SIXER.” Bill said.

To say Bill looked worse for wear was an understatement. The triangle was missing several of the bricks from his pyramid-esque form. Ford watched the piece he had caught scurry up and take its place at the apex.

Oh how the mighty have fallen. He couldn’t help but think.

“I WAS WONDERING WHEN YOU’D FIGURE OUT I WAS STILL HERE.” Bill said.

“How did you survive the memory erasure!?” Ford demanded, cutting straight to the chase.

Bill laughed sardonically. “AHAHAHAHAHAHA! SURVIVE? I WAS SHATTERED INTO PIECES, AND THEN EVERY PIECE BURNED UNTIL NOT EVEN ASHES REMAINED!!” The triangle yelled, suddenly glowing an intense blue. “LUCKILY I KNOW A GUY IN THE DEATH BUSINESS, SO I ASKED FOR A FAVOR. AND BOY, IT IS JUST LIKE XOLOTL TO CHEAP OUT ON ME AND ONLY RESTORE ME TO THIS PITIFUL STATE.”

“I don’t care what sort of state you’re in, get out of my brother’s mind now, or I’ll--”

“OR YOU’LL WHAT, IQ?” Bill mocked. “YOU ALREADY DESTROYED YOUR LAST WEAPON AGAINST ME!”

But Ford recalled Stan’s story about his confrontation with Bill, and one of the last things Stan remembered doing.

“I don’t need a weapon.” The scientist said defiantly, dealing a powerful straight-armed punch to the dream-demon. Bill shattered again into dozens of tiny bricks. The seagulls above cawed excitedly and dove down onto the deck, pecking at the little pieces as they scattered.

“SHATTER ME ALL YOU WANT!” Bill’s voice echoed from every piece. “I’LL JUST PULL MYSELF BACK TOGETHER LIKE I DID BEFORE!”

The screaming was silenced as the gulls scooped up the pieces and dropped them back over the side, into the dark water of the ocean.

Ford watched the gold flecks disappear beneath the waves and into the abyss. Bill’s last cry still left an unsettling lump in his gut. If the demon had come back before, what was to stop him from doing it again? What permanent solution could there be?

**Linebreak**

Ford awoke first. He was back on his feet in an instant, shaking his brother awake.

“Uhg… I just had the weirdest dream. You were up on deck fightin’ Bill, and there were seagulls everywhere… and Soos’s cousin was there for some reason?”

Ford looked at his brother like a doctor about to give an awful diagnosis.

“It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“Well, technically it was a dream, but it was real.”

Stan thought he’d feel better if he had just found out he had a terminal illness.

“So… that thing… really is still in my head?”

Ford nodded grimly.

“What’re we gonna do?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Was all Ford could reply. He plopped down on the hammock next to Stan, and they both sat in silence for a few moments. “What’ll we tell the kids?” Stanford finally asked his own question.

“I don’t think we should tell ‘em, not yet anyway.” Stan replied.

“They have a right to know, Stan. They’re just as involved with this as we are.”

“I don’t want ‘em to worry about it, especially if we don’t have all the facts yet.”

“They might be able to help us. They’ve done well handling Bill on their own in the past.”

“They’re just kids, Stanford!” Stan yelled, “They shouldn’t have to handle Bill at all! They should be free to enjoy being young while they still can!”

“Well, ideally, yes, but we’re not dealing with ideal circumstances here!” Ford argued. “This goes beyond our family; if Bill could return we’ll have the whole multiverse to consider!”

“Well you don’t know that it’s that bad yet, genius!” Stan shot back, “It’s been months, and this is the first time anything has happened. For all we know he could just be a minor inconvenience! And until we do find out just how bad it is, I don’t want to worry the kids about it!”

Ford couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “A minor inconvenience!? This is Bill Cipher we’re talking about! The extradimensional being who nearly brought time and space to an end! Master of the Nightmare Realm, feared throughout the multiverse!”

“Yeah, and now he’s a pathetic pile of poo that can’t even pull himself together without my mind pulling him apart again!”

“This time, yes, but how can we know he won’t pull himself together again? What will he be capable of if he gets more of himself together?”

“This time and every time he’s tried it so far!”

“What!?” Ford asked in shock. “What do you mean every time? This has happened before!?”

Stan’s face fell, as though he’d just said something he wasn’t supposed to. “I… ok I’m not really sure, but… maybe?”

“Maybe isn’t good enough, Stanley!” Ford shouted, “Not where Bill’s involved! What if he does something to hurt you?”

Stan sighed in frustration, “I’ve had these kinda dreams before, ok?”

Ford’s anger abated just a bit. He’d heard something about dreams in Stan’s mindscape.

“You’ve been having dreams about Bill?”

“I didn’t know it was him until just now.” Stan explained. “I’d just have dreams where there were pieces of gold, or corn chip crumbs, or LEGOs scattered all over the deck, and they’d start gathering themselves up. But they never got far before seagulls or crabs or gnomes or something threw them back into the sea. I never really figured out what it meant until you were there and started fighting him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I told you, I didn’t know it was Bill. I didn’t know it was important… and I didn’t want you to worry.”

Ford’s first instinct was to be mad. Stan had been withholding important information and now his worst nightmare was becoming a reality. But he had learned over the past few months that his first reactions of anger never led to anything good. He had to stop and look at things from Stan’s perspective. His brother really hadn’t known, and certainly hadn’t meant any harm.

“Can you tell me any time you have this dream again?” Ford asked.

“Of course I will, what do you take me for?”

A hysterical little laugh bubbled it’s way out of Ford unbidden. “I-I’m sorry. Sorry. I don’t mean to be so… difficult about this. I know it can’t be easy for you either. That demon’s in your head after all. It’s just… Stanley, this terrifies me!”

To be perfectly honest, it terrified Stan too. But he knew he had to be strong for Ford’s sake right now. Couldn’t have them both breaking down. And what’s more, now that he knew little bits of Bill were floating around in his mind, he couldn’t show any weakness.

“Yeah, of course it does. I’d be more worried if it didn’t.” Stan agreed, “But we’re gonna get through this together, ok? I got him under control for now, right? We just need to make sure it stays that way and find some way to get him out.”

Ford nodded. It sounded so simple and logical when Stan put it like that. He could work with simple and logical.

“In that case, we’ve got a lot of research to do!”